A Biker and a Babe
by VenusInBloom
Summary: Set in the 1970s in the Arizona desert. This is a Richonne fanfic with no zombies. Rated M for content (language, mild race-play/racism, and of course, smut). Story and characters do not belong to me.
1. Chapter 1

I hope you guys like this story. I will not be uploading the other chapters until I get some feedback. This is unlike anything that's out there Richonne wise. Enjoy!  
This story isn't mine, it comes from Literotica, I've literally just changed the characters' names and edited it. If that offends you then fuck off. If you want to read the original story, you can do so here: www. literotica / s / aint-budging

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The year was 1974. Rick Grimes, like an arrow against the wind, tilted his Harley chopper towards the approaching bend, watching more of the Sonora desert, wildly greened with cactus bushes, roughed up with rocks, come hurtling towards him. Air frantically combed his shoulder length black hair, beard, and glided smoothly across the chrome plating of his Harley chopper. The growl of his engine bit the streaming breeze, orchestrating a raw music of speed. Man and machine pummeled with reckless abandon across the tarmac plain. Savoring the feeling, the rush, from behind the shadow of the Ray-Bans, he saw ahead of him the silhouette of a hitchhiker on the other side of the road.

 _Well she ain't wearing much. Must be something crazy to stick her thumb out in that slutty get up,_ Rick mused. keeping a forward eye on the road and a glance on the side mirror.

The silhouette had rapidly developed into the more acute form of a young black woman sporting an . Rick smiled at her attire; she was clad in a leopard-print jumpsuit and white go-go boots. Her only real possession seemed to be a small suede satchel that rested on her hip. The woman had her thumb stuck out despairingly in an attempt to hitchhike in his dangerous and isolated neck of the woods. Rick wondered if the lone lady hitchhiker had some hankering for a hurting, particularly being a Negro woman in unfriendly parts of the country. He slowed down as he passed the chick who caught his eye just as he caught hers, thinking for a split second that he could ask her what her deal was. However, just as he was about to slow and flip lanes, an unmarked truck approached and stopped beside her.

Conscious that there was no other traffic on the road, he slowed to a crawl and watched the side mirrors as a rotund trucker in a dirty grey t-shirt got out of the truck and leapt on top of the chick, squashing her with his considerable heft, ultimately causing a mushroom cloud of red dust to envelop them.

Rick felt a glorious shot of adrenaline flare through his torso; figuring he could make the trucker squeal like a pig on a Sunday and make himself feel heroic to boot, he decided to involve himself. Plus, telling the story later would be just the thing to warm up a conversation after a few beers with his biker brethren. Rick dipped his feet to the ground and spun the bike round before hurtling towards the assailant. Just as he closed in, he saw the assailant scrabble up in pain and yelp.

He stopped the bike and got up, breaking out in laughter when he saw what the Black chick had done: she had stabbed the trucker in the upper thigh with her comb. The trucker howled in pain and staggered towards the chick, who was now running delicately in the opposite direction, restricted in speed by her impractically high go-go boots. Rick ran towards the trucker and roughly kicked the guy in the back of the legs.

The trucker fell and Rick snarled as the trucker began to scream. "What the fuck man! Stop hitting me, dude, look at her, she's easy, she's just a nigger – arrrrrgh!"

The chick, turned round and hurried back in the direction of the commotion, looking at Rick with wholehearted admiration as he repeatedly planted his steel-toed cowboy boots into the trucker's most sensitive parts.

She then loomed over the trucker, her comb still firmly implanted in his thigh and yelled angrily, "Fuck you, you rapist piece of shit. You're lucky I don't go stick my comb in your baby maker like you deserve you motherfucker." She kicked the trucker's nuts with her go-go boots.

The trucker gurgled, "My brother-in-law is the county sheriff- if you kill me-"

Rick hit the guy hard across the face with his fist and knocked him out cold.

Rick chuckled jokingly, "Come on, Pam Grier. Let's go and don't forget your comb."

The chick ran over delicately and pulled the comb from out of her assailant, who groaned in response. "I wouldn't want to leave evidence. I hope we haven't killed him."

Rick shrugged and mounted his motorbike. "His nose is twitching so I'm guessing he's alive, all that matters. Get on the back and hold on tight."

'Okay."

Rick revved up and nudged his Ray-Bans up his nose, feeling the girl tighten her grip around his waist. He liked this feeling. It reminded him of quick one night stands with girls he'd met when he was out at nights at the biker bar with his bros, playing it cool with the mammas who wanted in with any outlaw bikers. He smiled to himself, sweet orgasmic memories of sluts of yore flooding back.

He turned the bike round to head on back home to his little shack in the woods. "Hang on tight now."

"Where are you taking me, hey, what are all these on your clothes? Tell me that is not a swastika painted on your jack-"

The bike spurted into action as she shrieked in horror at the insignia on his clothes, her shrieks intermingled with his raucous laughter. Soon she was shrieking in horror at his laughter and he was laughing at the horror of her shrieks. She had her arms wrapped tight around him, both out of fear of being flung onto the road and fear of her eventual destination.

"The swastikas aren't all that serious; they're just to show that we don't give a fuck what society thinks. Have a beer."

The woman saw the biker glance at her wearily. He cracked open his fridge, minding the strange green splodge that had merged with the door handle, picked a bottle and tossed one to her. She caught it like she was catching for her life, and doing a terrible job of it. She had always been the last kid to be picked for school teams and her skills had not blossomed with the years. The dude looked at her, his bright blue eyes twinkling, and grinned. Despite herself, she couldn't help admiring him, if only on a physical level. The biker was statuesque in his slightly flared denim trousers and cowboy boots. He was a handsome man, long curly hair and all.

Michonne allowed her gaze to appraise his home, which was coated in Confederate flags and miniatures of bikes. Then there was his knife and gun collection just above his television set. On his coffee table was a strew of bikers magazines and porno magazines. Then she set her eyes on the pièce de résistance: a poster with blackface caricatures embellished with the words, 'All Coons Look Alike To Me!'. Her eyes nearly watered. She suddenly felt like she was having lunch with a crocodile.

The biker must have seen her gaze at the poster, her eyes wide, her mouth hung open. "You keep staring with your eyes so white and yo' mouth so wide and you're gonna start looking like one of them." He grunted as he pointed to one of the caricatures and took a swig of beer.

Michonne looked at him in shock as he assessed her, sublimely unrepentant for the cruelty of his words.

Her anger got the better of her and she got up and put her hands on her hips. "What the hell? Whatever I may be, you baby, are at least a dozen kinds of gross. I'd rather be squashed by a horny trucker than listen to this shit. Sayonara, pal."

Michonne could only see red and didn't see the biker get up and roughly pick her up, swinging her over his shoulder, and then back down on the sofa in what must have been a blur. She bounced on the sofa for a while, frozen in shock.

Michonne's hands gripped the edge of the sofa, and she swallowed. She looked at him wide-eyed and concerned.

His face was cold, sinister, and without expression as he said evenly, "You don't like what I say, or what I like, whatever. But if you think I'm gonna let you get your ass raped and killed hitchhiking, dressed like some floozy, then you've got another think coming. It's late and the closest interstate station is twenty miles from here, so I will gladly deposit you there tomorrow, but not tonight as I got some plans. Personally, I want to know what kind of girl is stupid enough to hitchhike dressed in go-go boots! So baby, enlighten me why don't you?"

Michonne raised an eyebrow before relaxing into the sofa, and reluctantly sipping the cool beer. She crossed her legs, "Enlighten you? That's a tall order, and if the Lord couldn't help Neanderthal Man, I sure as hell can't do the same for you."

Michonne saw the flash of anger in his eyes, but then he chuckled and stretched his manly physique across his arm chair. "You are a bitch with some nerve. Look, just tell me what makes a Negro chick dressed so... Sparingly take to hitchhiking in the Arizona desert? I got to say, can't blame a guy for being curious and all."

Michonne pouted a little and then began her story, "Well..."

Rick never knew what was going on with his mind. the Vietnam War had sapped him a little of his capacity to control himself, but one thing he did know was that even when his mind was a mystery unto itself, his body could tell him stuff about himself that he didn't even know.

He didn't know he liked disco chicks, Negro chicks, or ditzy chicks who could defend themselves armed with nothing but a comb.

His eyes kept wandering down to her lips, the delicious swells of her perky titts, her slim waist, and would finally settle on the very tops her exposed chocolate-brown thighs before some word she would say would catch his attention so that he was forced to stare into her almost almond-shaped brown eyes. The way his eyes were going, he knew that he craved something of her, but he didn't know why because he had never been with a Black girl before.

Then there was his cock, which seemed to have a hankering for the way her nipples were so clearly imprinted against her indecently tight suit, and the way she spoke, her open expression, her gestures and her ... For some reason, he really dug it. She had a sunny cuteness about her. He hadn't seen sunny cuteness up his neck of the woods for quite some time. His cock had gently swelled just from watching her. Despite himself, she was a little sexy.

"Hello Rick... I'm telling you my story, but you're... Staring."

Rick watched her squeeze her thighs together as if that was meant to deter him from looking at her cocoa-brown pins, he grunted and slurped beer.

"Naw I'm just thinking."

Michonne shook her head slowly, "I don't think so, you're not listening to me."

Rick watched her shift in her seat, but then he noticed that she was staring at him in exactly the same way, more subtly, but her eyes went from his lips, to his torso, to his crotch - they were really lingering at his crotch.

"Yeah so anyway, after I French kissed the lap dancer, my boyfriend said-"

Rick suddenly became animated and snapped back to attention, "Woah woah woah! You French kissed a lap dancer, a lady? What did she look like?"

Michonne snapped her head back and laughed wickedly, "Sorry, just checking where your attention was at... There was no stripper."

Rick smiled, resting his hands between his legs and leaned forward, "Okay, well uh, play it back a bit, so what really happened?"

Michonne shrugged, "I dumped my boyfriend in the van on the way back from New Orleans - you know, Mardi Gras - so he literally dumped me. He opened the door, shoved me out, sped off. What a low brother."

Rick nodded, that explained her choice of dress, and odd hitchhiking location.

"Why did you dump him?" He asked.

She placed the bottle down and twisted a finger round an curl, "You really want to know?"

He nodded.

"I told him that there was more to love making than missionary position. He didn't like that. He calls the joys of sex a feminist conspiracy."

Rick roared with laughter and slammed his bottle of beer down.

His eyes twinkled, he said in a low rough growl. "So, what was it that happened in the van that made it seem like the perfect moment to dump him?"

Michonne yawned and shrugged evasively, "Not much...gosh, I am ever so tired, can I sleep on your sofa a little?"

Rick shook his head. "You can sleep on my bed while I'm gone out with the brothers tonight, I'll give you a t-shirt if you like and a bandanna for your hair. I'll be back later though, so I'll want my bed back then if that suits you okay."

Michonne looked grateful for the second time since metting him. "Thanks Rick, that's really considerate of you to give me a bandana for my hair. Can I use your shower and all that too? Do you have a spare towel?"

Rick nodded. "Sure sure... If you don't mind using the hand towel to dry down, its kinda clean. I won't be perving, I'll be going out soon."

She nodded and got up, "Thanks and... I appreciate your hospitality. I guess it can't come natural to you." She indicated the poster and the flags.

Rick watched the chick smile, really smile and God was her smile hot; it was lightning to his cock. He smiled back, winked and drew his Ray-Bans back on from the inside pocket of his jacket. If only she knew how natural helping her had felt, a little too natural for his own liking. He would talk to his friends about this; he bet anything they would be able to offer some good advice.

"A foxy Black chick? I'd fuck her." Abraham scratched his Adam's apple deep in thought.

Rick, taking another shot at the old tin can on the fence with his pump gun. "I ain't offering her to you to fuck her, if I recall, I was just telling you she was my house guest, so if you bumped into her over the next few days, play nice. I know you guys aren't the most tolerant."

Daryl gunned a tin can down and added less-than-helpfully, "Not like you're gonna marry her and take her back to your pops to meet, we just gonna screw her. Hey, you know Rick, if you fuck Negro, Latina, and Asian girl three days in a row, you get a free beer on Sunday nights at the bar for at least eighteen months. How great is that? Besides, I thought you said she was only staying 'til tomorrow morning?"

Rick exhaled, "Yeah well, I might be too busy to take her back tomorrow morning, spoke to Glenn before I came across you guys and he's not going to be able to open up the chopper shop tomorrow morning, wants me to do it. He's got some guys coming in from Phoenix, they all want to custom paint their bikes with their colors, they got some new patch wearers too who want their forks swapped. Glenn promised me a little something extra if I cover for him. Hey, you got a light?"

Glenn was an honorary member and Vietnam War vet. Rick had introduced them to the rest of the gang as the best bike mechanic there was. They didn't believe until they realized that his shop was neutral ground.

Abraham threw his lighter at Rick. He then drew out his cigarette and lit it up. "I might have to take her back in the evening."

Daryl chuckled, "You said she might be staying for a few days, bro, she really must be a foxy chick if you're this sweet on her. If she's still here tomorrow, bring her to the bar. Hey, maybe if we all like her, we can share and share alike right?"

Rick said nothing, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke to the air. "I dunno 'bout that man."

The two other guys looked at Rick and then shared knowing glances at each other, before resuming their pot shots of the tin cans that were precariously balanced on the decrepit rotten wood fence.

Michonne was disturbed by his disheveled house, the racist poster, and the kitchen - the kitchen which seemed to have been over-run by an invasion of fungi and unwashed pots. She couldn't take it anymore. So, she cleaned it all up. She threw away the 'coon' poster because it just ugly and washed his bongs and neatly placed them in his cupboard. Then there was the porn which had grubby print marks that she placed in a box. She dusted, washed, and scrub-a-dubbed and when she was satisfied with her handiwork, she rested.

Michonne plaited her hair into two French braids that went down to her shoulders, showered and wore the t-shirt Rick had left out for her. She had to admit, wearing his t-shirt felt weirdly... Sexy. It was so large, and she felt honored he had given her the one clean item of clothing in his possession. She washed her panties in the bath and hung them on the rail to dry. She normally slept without panties, so it was no big deal for her. They would be clean and dry for her in the morning.

As she lay in the darkness, she thought of her ex-boyfriend, Mike. He had been an ex-Black-Panther-turned-utter-bore who was scared of everything and anything; she dated him for two months and on a drunken night he had methodologically taken her virginity. Michonne, a commitment-phobe from an untarnished line of unmarried women grimaced. Two months. Why had she even bothered dating at all? No woman in her family had never got a ring nor dime from a man, and she was not about to become arrogant enough to think she could break such a fine tradition.

Life was too short, women were now liberated and she was on the pill. Screw screwing Mike, she was going to get screwed. An image flashed into her mind of Rick standing by the kitchen doorway smiling, handsome and wild.

 _There is liberated and then there is moronic. The guy's a racist; he's crude, and rough. If you want, you can find yourself a nice leather wearing white man when you get back to San Francisco. Note to self: just make sure he doesn't like other nice leather wearing men._

On that happy thought, Michonne drifted into a delicious sleep.

"Woman, what the hell you gone done to my lounge and kitchen? What the fuck?"

Michonne was roused from sleep by Rick's demanding barks and the hideous glare of the bedroom light.

"Rick, can you turn the light off, I really am very tired. You can thank me for cleaning, yeah that's right, cleaning your abode in the morning."

She opened her eyes to Rick glaring down at her with a real mean look in his eyes, so she turned to sleep on her stomach, but upon doing that he roughly stripped back the duvet making her feel exposed, mainly because she was exposed. She could feel the cool air on her ass cheeks.

"Michonne you should never ever mess with a man's property. There is a lesson in that that you've got to learn."

Michonne gently yanked the t-shirt over her ass cheeks, and too drowsy to make sense of anything groaned, "No, that's not cool, you're kicking me to the sofa?"

She sat up and folded her legs, and looked up at Rick, whose face was stormy with some kind of emotion.

"I'm not kicking you to the sofa, Michonne..."

Rick extended a large hand, Michonne gazed at it, and noticed whilst she was busy gazing that there was a significant bulge in his Levi's.

Rick said nothing. He picked her up swung her round so that as he sat down, she was lying on his lap. She felt his hand casually brush the t-shirt up to her waist as his other hand gently stroked her neck.

"Rick, what are you doing?"

"Teaching you not to mess with my bongs, my porn, and my stuff... You sure have a fine rump on you Senorita."

"Why thanks I-"

An open hand suddenly swatted her bottom hard, leaving a reverberating sting across her sensitive flesh.

"What the hell?" Michonne screamed, now awake and in pain. She tried to squirm, but Rick pinned down by firmly grasping the back of her head. He continued his volley of spanks on her bottom, making it burn.

"This one's for moving my bongs, I like to know where everything is lady!"

He spanked her again.

"This one's for putting my porn in a box, I ain't ashamed of it!"

"This one's for wearing my t-shirt with no panties with your ass hanging out!"

Michonne felt the tingling electric warmth of her now tender bottom rouse her most intimate areas. She tried to wiggle away and cried in exasperation. "Rick you dog, let me go!"

"And this one is because I think you're enjoying this!"

He spanked her one more time.

"Why should I let you go Michonne, when you're enjoying this as much as I am?"

Michonne whimpered, "No I'm not."

Rick playfully countered, "Oh right, so if I touch you here...?"

He then reached below her toned legs and spread them with his hand.

Michonne unconsciously complied by spreading her legs, before whimpering, "No..."

Rick chuckled and began rubbing his white fingers between the moist pink pussy petals that peeked appealingly out of her cocoa outer lips. "That's some kind of no... You're so wet; you like being spanked do you?"

"It's degrading." She whimpered as she gently rocked her pussy against Rick's hand, coating his fingers with her honey.

"Well, sometimes a spring-cleaning Senorita such as yourself needs to be taken down a peg or two." He spanked her ass once more, making her shudder.

Rick idly circled his finger round her swollen pink clit and drawled. "I am going to make you cum so hard that you'll want to spread all that delicious cream up and down my hard white cock." Rick spread her pussy lips roughly with his fingers, allowing the friction to draw her in with tingles of pleasure.

Michonne lewdly rotated her butt-cheeks as she moaned and writhed against Rick's hands. She felt hid spare hand squeeze her ass cheeks, which sent a pleasurable throb to the moist peek of her swollen clit as he continued to massage her clitoris.

"Am I touching you better than Mike?" He teased, tweaking her clitoris and flicking it, making her writher in pleasure.

Michonne cried out, spreading her legs further apart.

Rick responded by replacing his finger with his thumb and slowly teased his finger into her sopping cunt. "God Michonne, your pussy is going to be so tight around my cock. I don't think Mike was giving you the fucking a foxy Black honey like you deserves."

Rick slapped her ass again, as he finger fucked her; she jumped a little, "Mmm, baby you know those spankings I've been giving your ass?"

She nodded.

"Well now your ass is like a little black cherry, good enough to bite. When I get the chance, that's exactly what I'll do."

Rick's thumb rubbed Michonne's clit aggressively, she writhed and moaned, in a hypnotic trance as he spanked and finger fucked her, making her clit and pussy the centerof her universe. She pumped up and down, wondering just how slutty she looked.

Michonne felt so lewd, spread across the lap of a biker whom she had known for only a few hours, but no man had ever made her feel this good. Though of course, there had been only Mike. Michonne thought of the fact that the deliciously handsome white man was busy manhandling her, and then her pussy clamped down on his fingers.

"Oh Rick, I'm going to..." Michonne gasped and moaned in encouragement, closing her eyes and arching her back in pleasure as the warm delicious lick of intoxicating joy shook her body to the core.

Rick smacked her ass, sending another jolt of pleasure across her body, "Bad girl, you've cum all over my fingers. Now, lick them."

Michonne would normally say something smart-mouthed, but she quietly accepted the hand before her and licked all of her own juices off. Something about obeying what he said made her feel weak at the knees for him.

Rick growled at her. "Now now girl, I want you to beg, beg to fuck your white master's cock."

Michonne stopped licking and frowned, "I will do no such thing; one screw doth not make me your slave."

Rick returned his hand to her clit, "Not yet, but it will," He rubbed her clit, so that more of her juices oozed from her pussy lips.

Michonne arched her back, her body still electric from the previous climax: "Rick..."

"Beg for my cock baby, tell me how badly you want it." He sternly asked.

"No. I ain't begging and I ain't budging."

Rick slapped her ass with more force than before. Michonne jolted and cried out, "Ow! I'm not fucking you, Rick!"

"You sure?"

He then picked her up, suspending her in the air before sitting her on his lap, so that he could see the beautiful profile of her face. He wrapped his arms around her and playfully nibbled her earlobe, his blue eyes seeking her response. He found it in Michonne's lust-drowsy brown eyes, her eyelids heavy, fluttering.

Rick kissed her jaw, and then finally, he kissed her lips.

Michonne moaned before getting up to fully straddle him so that their noses practically touched, "I must be touched in the head to like you. Still, I guess no one ever needs to know. After I leave tomorrow we'll be strangers right?"

Rick kissed the tip of Michonne's nose with a tenderness that surprised her. "That's right. Let's face it, a white biker dude, a Black disco chick, not like we're going to get married! You need a good fucking, and I quite want one."

Michonne sighed and kissed Rick's jaw. "You really know how to romance a girl."

Rick hands traveled underneath her smooth back which arched from his touch. "Well, I'm good at picking up the courtship signals that girls give, like when that girl is sprawled all over my bed pantiless."

Michonne laughed and planted a kiss on Rick's lips, "It wasn't like that..."

Rick began to remove Michonne's shirt, she willingly obliged by lifting up her arms. He flung it across the room and gazed at her, angel-faced, and allowed his eyes to roam her perky tits topped with dark chocolate nipples.

Rick growled playfully. "Michonne, I want to screw you just like this, with you bouncing up and down my cock until I cum." He placed his tanned hands on her dark nipples, cupping them, feeling their weight, admiring their feminine curve.

"Rick you're all talk, just a tease." She moaned, arching her chest against him, before unexpectedly getting up wearing nothing but a teasing smile, and dragging him over to the bed by the lapel of his leather jacket. Rick obliged, allowing his feet to glide as if on air. She pushed him onto the bed and eagerly straddled him, before unbuckling his trousers and yanking down his jeans.

Rick, now lying on top of his rumpled duvet, kicked off his trousers and yanked off his jacket and shirt, so that he was there, covered in nothing but tattoos and his boxers. Michonne inhaled. His body was lean and strong, with muscles and bulk that made her stomach flutter. Rick caught her look of appreciation and grabbed her waist with his large tanned hands.

Michonne traced a tattoo of a snake wrapped around a dagger on his chest, and then craned down to kiss his, she then slid a hand underneath the material of his underwear, and felt the large, substantially large bulge, she heard him take a sharp breath.

Michonne felt the spirit of adventure grow within her. She shook her finger cheekily at the man who wanted her to continue massaging his cock. She intended to call the shots. She edged down his body until her face was level with his cloth-restrained cock. He could feel her breath, warm, like feathers, arousing him further.

She took pleasure in hearing his ragged breath, knowing the control she had over him, so she brushed her lips against his underwear, before using her teeth to gently edge them down. She looked up, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell as he struggled to control himself.

"Suck it." He groaned, unable to control himself, desperate, even in the moment of sex, not to lose his cool in front of a near-stranger, his one attempt at controlling the situation revealing his helplessness. Michonne didn't answer, she merely continued with intentional slowness.

The warmth of the room dwindled across his sensitive cock-flesh; he kept his eyes closed as he felt her warm breath grow closer to his balls. He opened his eyes, and watched the incredibly erotic sight of Michonne tenderly cradling the base of his cock with one hand and slowly swirling the tip of her pink tongue tentatively around the top of his raging hard-on before swallowing it and sucking him into a delicious vacuum of wetness. Her beautiful ebony face contrasted with his cock. He closed his eyes and moaned in satisfaction.

Michonne, relishing the reaction that she was eliciting from someone who was deeply uncomfortable with losing control. She slowed down and loosened her hands grip on the rock hard base of his cock to watch his hips rise in frustration, before picking up the pace again. She lightly scratched her nails down his belly, which caused another reaction.

She stopped, and Rick leaned forward, looking eager to take control of the situation. She tried to push him back down again, but he caught her wrist and drew her up to him, kissing her, his tongue for the first time penetrating her lips and brushing against her own tentative tongue, creating a fire between them that heightened the moment and made the air still. Michonne wrapped her hand round his broad tattooed back, and ran her nails lightly down it.

Rick's blazed cobalt blue eyes filled with desire and he growled. "I want you."

Michonne gasped as she felt him roll her back down and then gently bite and stretch out her nipples with his teeth. She whimpered as they throbbed from being in that delicious place between aroused to hard nubs and sore.

He squeezed her tits and then lay back, commanding playfully, "Ride my cock."

Michonne smiled cheekily. Rick watched her take hold of his cock head, flatten it against his belly, and then slowly, teasingly rubbed herself against the length. He felt her clitoris, the inner folds of her pussy, brush up and down against his flesh, making him thrust against her in frustration.

His skin lightly glistened, he couldn't take any more so he rose and before she could react, picked her up facing him and carried her to the wall. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, both of them gazing silently at each other, their eyes both dilate, yearning desperately for release.

He kissed her forcefully on the lips as her back met the wall and his hands grabbed her buttocks, he stopped kissing her lips and whispered, "Spread your legs a little more."

Michonne, in a fever of lust, obeyed, wrapping her dark legs around Rick's body, feeling his large, very aroused cock enter her. She was small in comparison to his masculine bulk, so she squirmed deliciously as she felt him grab her ass and thrust his way into her very tight, dripping pussy. He kissed the little sensitive spot between neck and jaw, making her moan loudly. Michonne's tits rubbed against Rick's chest; giving her some discomfort. She moved against him, meeting his thrusts as his cock expanded into her thoroughly, stretching her out in a way she had never experienced.

They were both gasping, and Michonne lost in the moment, starting whimper, "Is that the hardest you can fuck me with that big white cock of yours?"

Rick grunted. "Is that a challenge you sexy little slut?"

Michonne responded huskily, "Pretty much."

Rick took up the invitation thrust harder into her, and gently bit her neck. Michonne cried out louder as she felt her imminent orgasm clamp down hard around his cock.

Rick thrust in her a few more times before jetting his cum in her core whilst her legs were tightly wrapped around his waist and her arms around the neck. They both looked at each other, communicating in heavy breaths as their muscles relaxed.

Michonne unwrapped her legs tentatively, her skin glowing and her eyes still alive from the excitement that had occurred.

She then patted Rick's arm. "Thanks buddy, I needed that."

No kiss, no goo-goo eyes, no nothing. Rick watched in surprise as she sauntered sleepily across the room, picked up the shirt and then collapsed on the bed before sliding between the sheets.

She then yawned and stretched her arms out. "Goodnight."

Rick scratched his forehead baffled, "Thanks buddy? That all you can say? I didn't just pass you a football, or change your oil-"

Michonne interjected. "Oh baby, you definitely changed my oil, but let's get sleeping, do you mind if I take this side of the bed? I like sleeping on my right."

Rick was hurt, he didn't know why. He'd offered her some good loving, and had received indifference in return. He'd fucked a hell of a lot of girls, and always found it difficult to shake them off. He kind of liked having to fend them off, he preferred it to well... Being treated the way that he treated girls. He made her cum at least twice for God's sake.

He dejectedly walked towards his chair where he had dumped his clean clothes, rifled through and found some boxer shorts. He didn't like the feeling of weakness, of powerlessness because it revealed the stark truth, that at the end of the ride, life always, eventually clocked back round to the mundane.

He watched her curl up, ignoring him. He turned the light off then climbed into his area of bed, flipped over and slept.

When Rick closed his eyes, he saw terrible things. He saw a beautiful, but disfigured Vietnam, a jungle painted in green, flesh and red splatters. The dismembered bodies at the landing zone were still there; his gruesome dreams had not changed. In front of him, feeling more real than real life itself, lay a scattered exploded mess of former comrades and friends, whilst the bitter smell of RPG-7 rocket gunpowder stained the air. Shards of sunlight pierced through the splays of lush green foliage. So many bodies. Second Lt. Rick Grimes closed his eyes, hearing the footsteps of his platoon catch up with him from beyond. When he opened them again, everything was bleached white. There was another explosion behind him. He heard screams, blood curdling, painful screams.. He closed his eyes, just for a moment-

Rick woke up with a wild jolt; his eyes glinted feral and vulnerable in the darkness of the night. His heart raced frantically from the sense of panic. He faced the window, allowing his senses to slowly return.

Rick jerked a little when he felt a small hand grasp his arm, but calmed down when he remembered Michonne. She snuggled up to him, spooning his larger body with her smaller lithe frame by wrapping an arm around his torso, rubbing his chest reassuringly.

"Hope it's okay for me to hug you like this." Michonne gently cupped her small hand within his larger one, feeling the sense of terror drain away.

"Sure it is." He responded.

Michonne snuggled closer and yawned. "It's nice hugging you. G'night."

Rick felt the faint, slow rhythm of Michonne's chest against his back. He began to calm down, now feeling a bit bemused by her awkward and sleepy attempts to spoon him, he turned to lay on his back and repositioned her so that she was resting on his chest. He heard her sigh.

Rick became drowsy again, his eyelids flickered slowly into sleep; from shadows and silhouette's to black. He dreamt of darkness that night; it was a good dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, I do not own any of the characters or the story. I suspected everyone was aware of the fact that this story has appeared on another website, but I suppose not. However, I don't think threatening a person or reporting their account for writing about something they don't own is necessary or smart for two reasons. First, you have no idea who the person is. Second, it's fanfiction, everything is plagiarized, we own no one and nothing. I've already contacted the writer, but I guess if reporting makes you feel better about yourself, go for it. Anyway, as usual, if you want to read the original story, you can do so here: www. literotica s / aint-budging

Please enjoy this "borrowed" story on a website whose entire purpose is to re-purpose original storylines for ourselves and others.

* * *

Rick stirred awake, his eyes remained as his arm reached out for Michonne. He opened them with great reluctance when he couldn't feel her presence and looked around his thoroughly disheveled room, or what used to be his wildly disheveled room. Everything had been folded and straightened up, including his stack of clean clothes that he kept on his chair. Michonne had obviously struck again. Rick pried himself out of bed.

He yawned. "Michonne, where you hiding?" Everything sounded so silent. It was a little ghostly.

Rick sat up, allowing his dark hair to cascade in front of his face. He then heard the swing outside creaking. He looked out and through the haze of the dirty window saw Michonne on the swing, dressed as she had been when he met her: in go-go boots, leopard print jumpsuit. Rick looked at the clock on the wall. It was 6AM.

 _Well there's a chica that can't wait to be gone from me_. Rick twisted his lip bitterly.

He approached the window and tipped against it lightly, hoping to get Michonne's attention. Michonne looked a little baffled; her head turned to where the sound was coming.

She walked over with a smile and gave Rick the same look as the night before flicking her attention from his eyes to his torso. He smiled back. Maybe she was staying after all, just an early riser.

Then she looked at him sternly and tapped an imaginary watch and mouthed 'time'. Rick grimaced at her and shook his head. She frowned; looking puzzled and then walked around the cabin.

Rick went to open front door and leaned against its frame, feeling the warmth of the sunlight against his chest.

Michonne approached him, but stopped outside of reach reach, making the empty space between them as taut as a tight rope. She placed her hands on her hips and a hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the sun.

"So when are we going Rick? The sun is shining, the birds are singing and you sir, get to be my taxi man for the morning, how about that?" Michonne gently closed her eyes and turned her palms towards the sun, the golden incandescence drew out the contours of her palm, the length of her ink-black lashes, illuminating her high mahogany cheekbones. She smiled like a sun worshiper in communion with her god.

"Why do you need to get there so soon? You want to get back to Mike, teach him some of what I taught you?" Rick tried to say it in a light-hearted way, but it came out wrong, and bitterness cracked through his voice. He felt agitated all of a sudden, his body stiffened and he wanted to look away, but instead he fixed his gaze on her, staring.

Michonne just looked back at him. Rick blew a strand of hair out of his face in exasperation as as she spoke. "Rick, take a chill pill honey. Mike was way too prim to learn anything other than fucking a girl sunny-side up".

Both of them grinned at her comment, the creases in his eyes grew deeper and he chuckled a little, kicking his naked heel slightly against the door frame.

He felt awkward, he was in new territory. Normally, after a casual screw, he would wake up, with the mammas as snug as a bug in his bed, their eyes glowing at him, glassy and needy. Sometimes, they would stroke his face, his hair, seriously hampering his post one-night stand sleeping efforts. However, Michonne was acting as if nothing had happened between them. He should have been relieved, but instead, he felt on edge. He wondered what he had done wrong.

"So last night Michonne... Did you have a good time?" He tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, allowing his head to lollop against the wooden door frame.

"Most certainly. If I had known this is what they meant by southern hospitality…" Michonne, threw him a mischievous look and smiled broadly. She puffed out her buxom chest, and stepped towards him a little, swinging her arms.

Rick rolled off the door frame, and with something of a burlesque yawn, stretching his arms said coolly, "Yeah, it was okay. Hey, I think I'm going to shower and stuff, grab whatever you want from the fridge."

"I looked. Whatever I would have wanted in that fridge stopped being suitable for human consumption a month back." She mumbled, before piping up, "Hey, what do you mean our fuck was 'okay' Rick? Rick?"

Rick tried to saunter as lazily as possible towards the bathroom, ignoring her. A bittersweet satisfaction fermented as he realized he had made Michonne a little insecure by downplaying how much he had enjoyed their session.

"Yeah, it was cool or whatever, look Michonne, I have to shower then I'll drop you round the interstate. Is that okay?"

Michonne protested, "Hell no it is not okay! Okay is not okay. What do you mean I was just okay?"

Rick went into the bathroom, purposefully leaving the door ajar before sliding out of his boxer shorts. He turned on the shower in the bathtub and opened the bathroom window. He hopped into the shower, allowing cool micro streams of water shoot his skin and swath him in wetness. He deliberately turned his back to the door, for the simple reason that he knew he had a butt that chicks dug, and the tattoo on his back – a sphinx with a laughing skull head, was sure to make her look.

He whistled to himself, loudly, to hopefully piss her off more and get her attention.

The door creaked open.

"Not looking, I'd just like to know why it is that I was only 'okay' when I thought we had some good action going on?"

"Sorry, can't hear you, showers loud, come on in closer."

"If I come in any closer I'll see your naked butt."

"Like that's not something you haven't seen before."

He heard footsteps closing in and a sharp intake of breath. "I didn't really notice your back so much last night. That's one heck of a tattoo, what does it mean?"

"It was kind of how I felt at the time, can't explain it." Rick had had the tattoo done when he came back from Vietnam. He felt it was a talisman on his back; though he weren't about to share that thought with anyone.

"Well, it's pretty, in an ugly way." She quietly stated.

There was silence.

Rick allowed a slip of a smile to creep across his face as globules of water enveloped him. Michonne was watching him, her eyes lingering on his body.

He wondered what was going through her head.

She watched the water beat against his lean muscular body, wetting his tanned skin and shoulder-length hair. Her heart quickened at the sight of his handsome form, she so wanted to touch him, be held in his strong arms, as he had done the previous night. But she wasn't going to act like some pathetic little girl and fawn over him. That was not her style. Even so, watching him did something funny to her insides - there was a little flutter, somewhere between her belly and pussy. She wanted him.

 _God, I am turning into some kind of pervert. I only came here to ask a question._

"So, how was our fuck just, 'okay'? Tell me Sensei, as you obviously have a bounty of experience". She tried to say it as derisively as possible, but his little comment had been weirdly hurtful and she wanted an answer.

"I do, you just gonna stand there talking, or you gonna do something useful? Like help me with my back, polish up that tattoo a little."

"No need to say 'please' or anything, everybody knows bad manners are so attractive." Rick waited, tapping her nails against her arm. She looked down and saw some of the nail varnish was chipping off. She grimaced; that was another good reason to get back to San Francisco. The thought of being seen with such tacky nails sent a shiver down her spine.

Rick muttered, "Okay, quit talking, and help me scrub my back… Please." He stressed.

Michonne milked the situation, "Oh, and what do I get out of it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Woman... You have some kind of nerve. You get to know why you were just okay, so that you can add them to your slut field notes or whatever." Rick's words bit Michonne; she shifted uncomfortably.

"Firstly, I am no slut, though yes, I do want to sharpen my love making skills, which every modern woman has a right to do. Second um, how do I scrub your back without getting wet with all my clothes on?"

"Simple, take them off, Slut." Michonne knew it was wrong time that the word slut would make her pussy throb, but it did because Rick had an odd way of making it sound like a compliment.

 _Fucking him doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything if I don't make it mean anything._

"Don't call me a slut." She said as she peeled off her top.

"I call you that because you like it, and you know why you like being called a slut Michonne?" He asked.

She quickly removed her boots, almost stumbling out of them. "Hmm, why do I like being called a slut?" She wriggled out of her suit and panties. Her breathing had become shallow in excitement.

"Because you're a good little girl who's only just learning how to be bad. You like being called a slut because you'd like to be one." He explained, the sponge in his hand now washing his shoulders. He squeezed the sponge, soap suds cascaded down his back in gentle rolls. She bit her lower lip, as she imagined following the trail of soapsuds with her lips and fingers.

"Whatever, Rick."

She wandered towards him and then stepped into the bathtub. Rick's back was still turned, but she could see that his muscles appeared to have tensed a little.

"Can I have the sponge?" She whispered, her nipples brushing against his back.

Rick saw her dark arm wrap round his torso, her palm open, gesturing for him to hand her the sponge. He placed the waterlogged sponge in her palm. He felt his skin tingle, not because from the onslaught of water, but because Michonne's warm wet curves brushing and pressing against his back.

"And the soap. Can't get you clean without soap."

Rick responded gruffly, "I only got Mr. Bubble. No soap."

Michonne chuckled, a low throaty melody. "Cool, well, when I ask for a squirt of-"

"You know I'll give you a squirt of anything you ask for." Rick replied in a low drawl.

"Mmm, okay… So back to polishing your back!" She said as she admired the tattoo with her sponge. The motions of her wrist eased into gentle rotations. Her other hand settled on the side of his hip. Michonne went from his shoulders, zigzagging down, idly following the dark blue edges of the tattoo.

"Harder." He demanded.

Michonne ran a hand down Rick's hip, "Harder what?"

"Wash my back, harder." He straightened his back, attempting to intimidate her.

Michonne continued to examine the tattoo until something caught her attention. The laughing skull head appeared to be obscuring a raised bump of skin. She touched it gently, Rick jerked.

"What's this? A scar?"

"Just wash my back." Rick's voice was flat and cold. Michonne decided not to pursue it.

Michonne wrapped her arms around Rick's waist reassuringly, "Okay, well I think I'm done washing your back. But I can think of something I'd like to wash, real hard."

Rick took quiet pleasure in Michonne being pressed against his back, her breath against his wet skin.

Rick lowered his head, watching her hand coyly press the sponge against the area above his cock, gently skimming downwards. He felt his semi-erection grow with anticipation, he exhaled, the thrumming sound of water around him growing louder, the water getting hotter.

Michonne tenderly brushed the sponge, with its soft textured surface, along the length of his cock; the back of her nails brushing a light blue vein.

"Yeah, that's it, darlin'." He groaned, cocking his waist towards her hand.

Michonne rubbed his chest with her free hand and kissed his back, his scar, then stood on her tiptoes to plant delicate little kisses along his shoulder blades.

She pressed the sponge against Rick's erect cock flesh more fervently.

"Soap. Squirt some soap onto the sponge. It will make washing you hard much easier."

Rick grabbed the Mr. Bubble bottle, opened the lid and hastily squirted it on the sponge.

She enveloped Rick's cock with the soapy sponge and rubbed the sponge up and down his length. Rick moaned as Michonne's other hand found his groin and cradled his hardness in her palm whilst she idly bathed his dick. He clenched his fist slightly, and then unfurled it, needed more from Michonne. Rick grabbed her lithe wrist, and then twisted around, facing her, his face to her face. He pulled her towards him. Her breasts press against his chest; chocolate satiny cushions.

"Mmm, stopping me from getting my paws on the cookie jar? That's truly unfair." She whined.

"You got me all wrong, I'm giving you a free pass to the cookie jar…"

He smiled, the pearly whites of his teeth bare and his eyes blazed as blue and hungry as a predator that had marked his prey. She gazed back challengingly, as Rick nakedly assessed Michonne's sexy body, inspecting how openly it craved him; arousal had stiffened Michonne's nipples into protruding nubs.

Rick released her wrist, momentarily caressed the nape of her neck, pulling her in closer. He looked at her as if he was reading her, before kissing her forehead; his beard tickling her.

Rick's cock, slippery from the wetness, pressed against her belly and flattened against her stomach. He rubbed it up and down, his pre-cum mixing with the liquid glow of her mahogany skin. Michonne smiled at him playfully and let her hand brush his bottom of which he gently squeezed, sending a throb from his balls to his cock.

Rick groaned, "You're a bad little mamma with too much sass, now why don't you do something good with that pretty mouth of yours and suck my white cock?"

Michonne pouted, "Manners, Rick."

"Mmm, nope, now it's your turn to have some manners, and be obedient."

Michonne raised a questioning eyebrow. "And why would I obey you?"

"Oh we can be political about it Michonne, but I'll let you into a secret – no matter how strong you are with your clothes on, given a bed and a hard cock you become a little pussycat, spread and dripping for a hard stiff fuck." Rick drawled, admiring her her moist tits and ass. He restlessly rocked the flat of his pale cock against the press of her dark belly, invigorated his prick with pleasure tingles.

"That's not true…" She said breathlessly, before gently tugging Rick's short beard, forcing him to lower his head into a kiss. They kissed passionately, their lips murmuring and their tongues slipping against the others with silent need.

Rick placed the flat of his under her tit, feeling the weight, his thumb rubbing her nipple. He clasped the firm dark nub between his thumb and forefinger and then slowly pulled. Michonne moaned, and pulled away from the kiss, instead studying his actions.

His hand left Michonne's heavy tit and traveled leisurely down her smooth belly, until it was at her snatch. Rick fingered through her swollen sex lips, flicking the tip of his forefinger against Michonne's clitoris. She swayed her hips back and forth, spreading her slickness on his already wet fingers.

Michonne's breasts heaved as her breathing became heavier from his touch. He was rough round, but his touch was gold as far as her clit and body were concerned. Each flick of his finger made her feel like liquid honey was pumping through her veins, coursing through pussy. Lust-drunk, Michonnne turned her attention to Rick's stiff prick. Her fingers reached out and touched the cock head; he grunted in response. He straightened up, his hand reluctantly leaving Michonne's hot cunt.

"Mmm, I gave you an order earlier; I want you on your knees, sucking my cock."

"I don't-"

"If you want to be fucked like a good little girl, you had better suck my cock.", Michonne pressed her tits against Rick's chest before sliding down.

"I'm only obeying you because I do want to be fucked." She grumbled, as she slowly fell to her knees. One small dusky hand pressed against Rick's thighs and the other cupped his balls, and slightly squeezed.

"I know, that's why you're my slut." Rick said in a low husky tone.

Michonne's wet Afro framed her dark beautiful face. Rick admired her face with plump bowed lips that gravitated teasingly close to his throbbing prick.

She ran the tip of her nose lightly against the length of his cock, before her hand left his throbbing balls and then met the base of his dick.

He closed his eyes, this time; he was going to stay firmly in control, even if it killed him. That morning, if anyone was going to lose control, it was Michonne.

"You have ten seconds to get those lips round my cock." He growled.

Michonne's eyes twinkled with a wicked glint as she opened her lips and took him in, her other hand pumped his shaft at the base, stroking up a pleasing friction.

Rick exhaled. "Yeah, that feels so good, touch yourself, Michonne. "

Rick looked down to see Michonne caressing the place between her thighs, rocking against her own fingers.

They moaned in unison, losing themselves in the moment.

Michonne gagged as she tried to take in more of Rick's firm dick. He looked down and saw that she appeared to be trembling; her tits rose and fell as she was gently bucking against her own hand and then stilled from her climax.

Rick fought to control a surge of arousal.

"Bad girl, you made yourself cum?" He tried controlled his breathing through his nostrils, he was so close, but he wasn't going to lose it.

Michonne released his cock from her mouth with a popping sound; she looked at him in earnest.

"Maybe."

"Which hand did you use? Show me." Trembling from her orgasm, she lifted her left hand.

Rick chuckled, "A south paw, well, you know what a good teacher does to a south paw?"

Michonne felt a slight shudder of surprise as he grabbed her left wrist and pulled her to her feet. Her legs felt like there was no bone. He pinned her wrist against the tiled wall by the tub, and then stealthily found her other wrist and pulled it up, and then placed both wrists in one rough grip, above her head.

"Put one leg out Michonne, just here, on the edge." Rick's free hand cupped her under the crook of her knee and lifted it onto the ledge of the bathtub so that the pink inner folds of her pussy were exposed.

"Good, now answer me. What does a good teacher do to a south paw?"

"They act nicely to her and show her how to hold stuff properly." Michonne smirked cheekily, her attention flicking to his cock, then back to his stern gaze. She looked at him defiantly, trying not to lose herself in his mesmerizing cobalt-blue eyes.

Rick appeared to be in a good mood which made her relax. She cried in surprised when she saw one of Rick's tanned hands spank her dark breasts; a numb pain warmed her tit.

"Nope. A good teacher disciplines a student when they done wrong, especially when they do wrong with the wrong hand."

Rick casually spanked each of her breasts again; he reveled in seeing her tits oscillate, as well as her genuinely surprised expression. Between his apparent sadism, and her gamely masochism, he found toying with Michonne deeply arousing. He wondered what her limits were.

Michonne felt every sting, each one sensitizing her swollen nipples, warming her pussy up, and sending intoxicating slivers of arousal to her dripping cunt. She felt vulnerable and at his mercy. Her tits felt like they were on fire; she whimpered and arched her back, putting on another lewd display.

Rick's erection had become more furious since he began spanking her breasts.

He paused, his breathing now heavy. He then drew closer to her, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers, before planting kisses across her face. Michonne sighed in response, reveling in his feathery touch.

Rick's grip around her wrists loosened.

Michonne looked puzzled.

Rick let go of her wrists and dropped to his knees, shifting his legs in the awkward confines of the tub. He pinned her spread legs firmly against the wall and gently bit the inside of her thigh. Michonne whimpered and bit her lower lip. Rick roughly spread her lips with his fingers and started massaging the swollen rouge bud of her clit. He craned his neck towards her sex and then licked the slit; the tip of his tongue circling around the bud.

Michonne. already sensitive from her previous orgasm, could feel her inner muscles tighten, she writhed a little, working her hands into Rick's drenched hair. He heard her sobbing as he ate her and smiled devilishly, getting gratification from the torment he was inflicting on her.

He stopped and looked up. "Play with your tits. Moan for me."

Michonne did as she was told. The lack of friction from the water meant that they would slip out of her hand. She panted as she looked down, spread out by Rick's hand, feeling the familiar threat of pleasure building between her thighs. Rick watched her as he lapped at her pussy.

Michonne felt a hand leave her leg and felt it travel up her leg, but kept stroking her fingers through his hair and scalp. Rick's fingers nudged their way up the back of her thigh, and slightly parted her ass cheeks. She eyes opened all of a sudden as she felt his finger, or thumb, work its way into the puckered bud of her ass. His fingers were moist from the water and her drenched pussy.

"Wow, Rick, where you going with that?" She jerked as she felt the thumb work its way into her virgin ass.

Rick stopped licking her and growled, "Don't act like you're not gonna like it. Girls like you need to have your ass filled once in a while."

She moaned loudly as Rick inserted his thumb into her ass. It felt uncomfortable at first, but as he began to lick her clit again she couldn't get enough. She squeezed her ass around his finger as her pussy tightened. She was so wet, near the brink...

"Please Rick, Please..." She begged.

"Please what?" Rick asked forcefully, jamming his thumb further up her tight ass, making her jerk her into his face.

"Fuck me."

Moments after saying these words, she began to feel a luscious ripple emanate from her cunt to her ass. She tugged her nipples and gasped as the orgasm washed over her.

But still Rick kept going.

She whimpered. Smaller orgasms ripped through her, tugging her down, down; her legs nearly gave way.

Rick stopped and withdrew his fingers and tongue. He playfully spanked her thigh, making her straighten her back.

"Ow!"

Rick got up, and Michonne dropped her knee, so that she was standing with both feet in the bath tub. He wrapped his arms round her. "Pity you're all tired out, I was going to give that cock you've been begging for."

He nestled his hard cock between her slit and rubbed it back and forth. He gently bit her earlobe.

"Send me back to San Francisco with a smile."

"Oh I think you've already got a smile." Rick groped Michonne's soft ass with force.

"Okay. A really big smile."

"Mmm, hold this-", He forcefully turned her around and placed her hands on top of the towel rack at one end of the bath tub. "-spread yourself, till I see the pink of your cunt."

Michonne turned stepped forward, creating a cool space between. She spread her ass, feeling Rick's long fingers dance over the small off her back, before he grabbed her waist and bent her over.

He rubbed his cock along her swollen slit and slowly sunk his rigid cock into her dripping pussy. She moaned and moved back against him. Rick watched his white cock, slowly work its way into her cunt. She whimpered, swaying her butt. He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against her skin. Michonne moaned loudly, not caring if anyone could hear them.

She felt his hands wrap around her waist and hold her firm, putting a pause to her gyrations.

"There are times when I get to fuck you and you don't get to fuck me. This is one of them." Rick firmly held onto her waist then slowly plunged into her. Rick then withdrew and rubbed his cock between her shiny slit, feeling his cock catch the little sensitive bump of her clit. She squirmed and tried to drive against him, but he held her still, driving her crazy with desire.

Rick rubbed her ass, squeezing the soft plump mahogany flesh as he plunged into her again and again, feeling her pussy squeezing him.

The muscles along his inner thighs and groin tingled as he felt his cock stiffen and balls constrict. He thrust into her pussy, glancing at her inner pinkness and its contrast to her darker outer pussy lips. He grunted.

Rick found the raised nub of Michonne's clit and began to rub it roughly, whilst the thick fingers on his free hand twisted and stretched her nipple.

Michonne wailed softly, "Rick, I'm gonna cum..."

He fucked her harder as he felt her pussy tighten around him.

Michonne bucked against him wildly as her pussy milked his cock, tugging him with delicious fervor.

Rick gasped and grunted. He could no longer hold back as his body yielded to the demands of her cunt. He thrust in her a few more times before hot jets of spunk spurted from his cock, flooding her pussy.

Both stilled, globules of water dancing off their bodies like teardrops. Flaccid, he reluctantly withdrew from the Michonne's sumptuous heat.

She turned round and pressed a soft kiss to Rick's lips, he kissed back, his tongue slipping between her lips.

"You still haven't told me why I'm just okay.", Michonne raised an eyebrow and resisted a smile.

"Well, if you weren't needing to get back tonight, I could have told you tonight." Rick placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly kneading them.

"So you never going to tell me?" She pushed up her bottom lip in mock disappointment.

Rick shrugged. "Looks like it."

They silently got out of the bathtub and went to the bedroom. With only one towel in his possession, Rick dried them both down, memorizing each curve and length of her limbs. Even if she were going soon, he planned to keep her in his most carnal thoughts for a long time.

"Hey Rick, you taking me to the station now?" She asked, smiling her eyes lazily inspecting him. Even in the tatty torn grey night robe that he had donned and his off-green slippers he was a true fox. His skin was flushed from the fuck they just had. Michonne found him to be at his sexiest. She wondered this sexy, how hard he worked to get that way.

"You keep looking at me like that and you might not be going anywhere." Rick muttered, his own eyes greedily traveling down her body, as if she was made out of money. She was wearing his t-shirt again.

Michonne slowly sauntered over to him and stopped a few inches away from his heavily tattooed chest. She pulled at his beard, bullying him into a kiss.

Rick didn't resist. He cupped her chin and kissed her forehead then tilted his face to her own and kissed the tip of her nose. He continued to travel down her face until he reached her soft plump lips. His tongue pried between her yielding lips, only to be met by her own sweet licks. Soon they were kissing, the heat between them burning them up. Michonne nipped Rick's lower lip impishly while she softly ran her nails down his chest, creating a faint trail of fire.

Rick felt his cock firming as he considered fucking the little minx again, but he needed to get ready for work. He tried to figure out a way to let her know she wasn't going to be going back that morning.

He decided against it.

Rick sighed and pulled her away. "Yeah, 'bout that. I have to go into town to pick up a few things see 'uh. Yeah. However, I'll be coming back, right? Real soon."

He had just lied through his teeth; still he gave her a crooked smile and patted her soft Afro.

She looked a little disappointed, "Okay, how long will you be gone?"

Rick turned so she couldn't see his lying eyes, "Not too long, maybe a few minutes, like twenty max."

Three hours later and Rick was still in Glenn's shop. He still felt like a lying scumbag, and contemplated calling her on his home phone, but then he decided against it. She was sure to be deeply bummed with him, and nothing soured him more than an upset woman.

"Don't worry Shane, your bike ain't about to explode. One of the wires had some real abrasion on the insulation sheath. That's how you got the flash from the cylinder right? Just over here, can you see that?" Rick showed him the detached wire, cradled between his fingertips, stained with oil.

"Yeah, sure can."

"The insulation's been sliced into, but I've replaced it, checked all the wiring and relays, and as a special consideration for a friend, made sure the voltages were normal. You're good to go. I got to tell you, if I weren't a Harley man myself, then this Honda you got here, Four K2, would be my girl."

"Well, I was a Harley man too wouldn't you know? But then I tried this baby and she was sweet as hell. We can't always choose the ones we love, right?"

"I guess, but something tells me I'm always going to stay true to my Harley."

"Well thanks again Rick, hey how come I don't see you 'bout much often? Glenn would take you on full-time in a heartbeat, I know it."

"Maybe one of these days, just not now. It's been a while, but I'm still finding my feet. Glenn might think he wants me full-time, but he'd have me straight out the door if he caught me on a bad day. Wouldn't want that."

"I understand, I understand, well you met Charlie and Daniel, my nephews a few years back right? They both went to 'Nam too-"

"You're a good man Joey, but this ain't something I'm just gonna be talking about. But, anything else I'll be happy to chat to you with." Rick hated giving Shane the cold shoulder to, but a friendly customer was not his first choice for discussing one of the more sensitive aspects of his life.

"No, you're okay, so what do I owe you?"

Rick looked at his watch; he still had customers coming in from Phoenix, Glenn's friends. He wondered how long they would be.

He dusted down and wandered outside the garage where a couple of bikes, including his own, were parked. They were glorious pieces of machinery, built with curves of the smoothest metal.

Rick exhaled. He had only been work-free for five minutes, but he was already bored. He stood outside the garage, smeared oil down his blue overalls and lit up a cigarette. It was the first cigarette of the day; he'd been so occupied fucking Michonne he'd forgotten to want to have one.

 _Michonne, Michonne, Michonne._ He thought fondly, he sure hoped she'd keep in touch. There was a great scene there for bikers of his ilk in San Francisco, but more than that, there was Michonne, who was a great screw. With her open attitude to fucking, he could tie her up, blindfold her, then slowly nibble her all over her pretty ebony body. He would tell her she was his little slut as he bit her earlobe gently, and squeezed her breasts-

"A brazen exhibition of Satan's Horn if I ever did see young man! You ought to be ashamed!" Mrs. Peletier staunch and starchy as always, came gliding into the peripheral of his vision. She had that expression that was tattooed onto her face, a mixture of barely muted disdain, wearing her navy blue pill hat and long blue dress.

"What the hell you gone talking about?" Rick snapped. He blew a cloud of smoke in Mrs. Peletier's direction, just to get her a little more fired up.

Mrs. Peletier spluttered and pointed at Rick's crotch, "You need the church in your life young man, to amend your wicked ways."

He looked down and sure enough, he had something of a semi-erection going. In front of customers, he would have been embarrassed, but in front of Mrs. Peletier, he took delight in her flustered reaction.

"Well, enjoy the show." He winked wickedly at her, running his fingers through his hair.

Mrs. Peletier gasped in shock, "I will do no such thing. You used to be such a good boy Rick, but all these motorbikes, and that there unruly hair of yours has put the devil in you."

She stomped towards him, and then angrily scrunched a leaflet up and practically punched it into his hand.

"Jesus, Mrs. Peletier."

"Do not use his name in vain. Read it, and learn a little something about God's love." She said and she marched into the shop.

The leaflet, entitled 'Angels of St Paul: 10 Simple Steps for being Sin-Free', depicted an image of a blond honey angel with huge tits struggling with a muscle-ripped demon. With Mrs. Peletier's back safely turned, he began to muse.

He imagined Michonne with wings, a harp, a white Afro, nipple tassels and frilly white panties being manhandled by a red demon that closely resembled him.

He smiled to himself, took one last drag of his cigarette, and then flicked the butt away.

Yup, he sure could think of someone he would like to put the devil into.

Michonne was not amused. The first hour of Rick absence had been forgivable.

 _Maybe he had meant twenty minutes there, a little shopping, and then twenty minutes back. Yup, that would take an hour. He's cute, I can forgive him._ She had considered, doubtful. Had she been less busy trying to seduce Rick into more sex, she would have been more inquisitive about the fact that he was acting mighty shifty towards her before he left. Who knew where he had gone to?

The second hour came and went. By this time, Michonne was laid out on the sofa, eating some of Rick's corn chips and watching re-runs of Fat Albert on Rick's television set. She thought of her pet cat Tiger, whom she had left at Mike's grandma's.

 _Hope Mike's grandma is still feeding Tiger. The woman did not like me. Hope Tiger ain't been abandoned to the streets, meowing for her catnip, like some cheap- ass Disney movie._ Michonne's brow furrowed her brow, and then frowned in concern.

By the third hour, despite watching a Kung Fu film with a super fine main actor, she felt morose. She slumped into the sofa, feeling even sadder when she saw that she had corn chip crumbs down her top.

 _Rick, Mike both men. Mean-as-sin abandoning men. Motherfuckers. Never been abandoned in someone's own home though. Maybe it's about time I started to develop a complex or something…_ Michonne breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm herself down.

 _Okay, go for a walk, Michonne. Don't think too much. Don't freak out about the fact that you're alone in a cabin in the middle of a fucking wood somewhere and you've been kidnapped by a sex-hungry biker! Fuck, will they make a Disney movie out of that too?_

That was it, Michonne got up, wrapped her hands loosely round herself, with the intention of going for a walk. However, just as she opened the door she saw the most alarming sight; five motorbikes roared round the bend towards his cabin.

Bikers- and none of them resembled Rick.

Her heart began to beat rapidly and her mouth went so dry she almost wanted to bolt inside and get a glass of water.

Instead, she stood there transfixed as they approached.


	3. Side Note

I feel like I need to establish some house rules here since this is my post.

1\. If you do not like the story, don't read it.

2\. Do not talk about me on Tumblr or on other websites because it is very easy to track. I can easily Google "A Biker and a Babe" on websites and find out who is talking about me, you guys aren't slick.

\- I don't understand how and why Tumblr and Fanfiction have become horrible spaces for writers especially by extremists who dedicate more time an attention to fictionialized characters, so much so that they want to give a "head's up" about borrowed work without even bothering to read the disclaimer at the top.

3\. If you are not a Black woman (single or in an interracial relationship) do not talk to me about BDSM or raceplay if you do not know what each entails. Some people are into raceplay, others are not. If that makes you uncomfortable, do not continue to read and do not comment about how uncomfortable you are. I do not care.

\- If you are not a Black woman and talking to me about Black issues, know that I will find a way to contact you to tell you about yourself. You don't know anything about Black womanhood. There is no solidarity amongst White women and Black women because Black women are at the bottom of the barrel. Don't believe me, Google it.

\- If you don't know anything about the 1970s and race relations in the 1970s, I highly suggest you Google that too. Rick and Michonne are not the Rick and Michonne you guys have fantasized about, the very same people you guys have created stereotypes about, and the very same people who have become caricatures for your imagination. This story is not mine, the names have simply been changed. Get over it.

4\. If you're commenting because you've come to find that you've read the story before, congrats! You've just caught up! This story appears on Literotica and it's called Ain't Budging by Midnight_Flux. Before you begin to get upset at plagiarism and blah blah blah, did you read the disclaimers at the top of the pages? No? Go back and read them before you talk to me. I'm no longer in the mood to entertain negative and useless comments. It has literally only been three days you guys managed to ruin this website for me and I have seen a lot of shit both on here and on Tumblr.

\- I'm going to single out **Siancore** from Tumblr for a bit - you cannot take on the role of the police because you love two characters. I have personally reached out to you on Tumblr and you decided to block me and everyone who agreed with me for whatever reason. You cannot start something with someone online then decide to delete everything and pretend it never happened. I have already stated that I would be pressing charges against you if I ever see anything related to me by you or your followers because what you're doing is unnecessary and a form of harassment/bullying. Fanfiction in itself is taking copyrighted material and making it your own. You do not have the right to tell me that I am not allowed to do something when you 1) don't even know the story, 2) don't know who I am and 3) understand the basis of fanfiction. This entire purpose of this website is taking an author's hard work and making it your own IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW.

\- I don't know if any of you had ever written an essay, but when you do, you need to cite what you have taken which what I have done. Some of you guys have literally taken words from the television show and not stated that you took it from the show. Is that not plagiarism?

Now, I'm going to be taking a break because I have five papers due next week, but I will try to post something in the next two weeks. Again, if you don't like the story, don't read it and don't comment. Move on with your lives, there are other stories.


	4. Chapter 3

I'm back with more! I've done all the chapters so now all that's left to do is to post them. Remember: if you're going to send me hate mail or tell me that I'm plagiarizing a story that you saw on Literotica (called Ain't Budging, by the way), know that I've heard it all and will not hesitate to come for you. Don't fuck with people on the Internet, you don't know them and they don't know you. This chapter introduces some new characters who are mostly irrelevant.

Also, I don't know what's going on but whenever I put * * * they disappear so it looks sloppy, but whatever, there's been worse to complain about.

* * *

Rick lazily weaved across the wide stretch of road with his dirty overalls still on and an even dirtier smile on his face. It was evening and he could hear crickets strum their twittering chorus in the nearby fields. He thought of Michonne and what little chance there was of her wanting to catch the night bus back to San Francisco. He hadn't known her for long, but he knew that she would not want to do that, which meant there was a good chance of them fooling around. He imagined her tied up and blind folded with her legs spread as she smiled in anticipation. His heart starting beating faster and his dick stirred like a lazy snake.

He revved up the accelerator, tailgating his thoughts.

When Rick arrived home he hesitated, remembering that he was supposed to have been back a couple hours ago. He hoped she wasn't angry; he couldn't see her throwing anything too heavy at him, but he couldn't forget her stabbing that trucker with a comb.

"Chonne baby, I'm home. Sorry-"

He stopped in his tracks as he caught a glimpse of a hastily scrawled note on his table.

" _Gone Fishing_!"

Rick picked up the note, and irately screwed the paper up into a small ball.

"Gone Fishing" was the brothers' code when they had found a girl they wanted to fuck. The note told him all he needed to know; the brothers had visited while he had been at work and took Michonne to Moe's. He quickly ran out of his house and jumped on his bike.

Earlier that morning Michonne had found herself stuck to the door in fright as five bikers parked round the front of the house and confidently swung off their bikes. The men were well-built, and like Rick, they sported beards and lengthy hair; all but one. They also wore similar jackets to Rick; she guessed that these were the brothers Rick was referring to.

"Hey, you here for Rick?" She asked with all the bravery she could muster.

One of the bikers with short brown hair looked at her oddly and grinned, exposing a broken mosaic of teeth. "So you the one Rick's been hiding?" He drawled lecherously.

Michonne forced herself to not grimace. "Rick's gone out to get some groceries from the store, apparently."

She turned round, and nearly had a heart attack when she felt her wrist being grabbed. "Oh we know where Rick is, baby. But the thing is, we hear that there is a free and easy coloured chick in town. Want some cream in your coffee, baby?"

Michonne nearly retched and her anger superseded her fear. "I'm bullshit intolerant so won't be having anything you have to offer."

The biker pulled her towards him and Michonne cried in surprise "Now you listen here-"

The other bikers who had been watching approached them. A chubby one with a sad looking face and brown hair put a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough Neegan, Daryl told you she was Rick's guest, not a sheep or easy broad. I don't think Rick will much like to hear you manhandling his guest. Now Michonne we thought we'd show you around, especially with Rick being busy. Sometimes it's nice to keep the company of someone who's a little, uh, different. Right Neegan?"

Neegan and Michonne shot each other mutually disdainful glares. "Sometimes a little "different" needs to know when to step in line Jesus, old boy."

"Listen to yourself, you sound like a cop. No one needs to step in line, you just need to stop getting so worked up over nothing. Let's just take the girl down to Moe's, and show her a good time." Jesus said grinning, trying to convince Neegan. "And you know Lori's on the pole tonight, she was pretty wild last week, bet she's gonna show us some hot stuff tonight too."

Neegan let go of Michonne. He stepped further into the house.

"Hey where you going?" Jesus asked.

"Leaving Rick a note so he knows where we're at." Neegan swung open the front door and sauntered into Rick's living room.

Michonne really didn't want to go anywhere with the bikers, Neegan made her particularly weary, but she had no choice. Only God knew what these guys wanted from her, she only hoped that it wasn't going to come true.

Moe's bar resembled a hunting lodge on acid: a jukebox was kicking out some rock music, animal skulls were hung all over the walls, and there were some seriously intoxicated bikers and dancers slouched about the place. In the corner of the bar lay a circular platform with a pole – for stripping she presumed - and a barely-dressed stripper drinking a cocktail and swinging her legs.

It was a new scene and therefore a new experience, she just wished she could enjoy it. Neegan had forced her to ride with him, daring the others to oppose him. When they arrived at the bar, he had picked her up and placed her on his lap, further snatching every moment to unashamedly stuff his hands down her shorts. She tried to fidget away from the grasping pair of hands, but apparently, he had developed the art of sexual assault while simultaneously chatting about women who would spend three hours daily cleaning his bike as he slept through the afternoon.

"That's the way to do it partner. Too many women 'round here are damn useless; can't cook, can't clean, can't do nothing much. Shoot, the least they can do is polish up the Harley nice." Daryl said in agreement.

Jesus shook his head slowly in disagreement. "No… Who wants a woman like that? Without a head on her shoulders? I want my woman who can make me feel excitement. Not just some sheep, or puppet. Pass me the ash tray? Thanks."

Neegan leaned towards her and licked her earlobe like a thirsty dog. Michonne felt goosebumps rise from her skin. "Now can you believe this Michonne? Jesus here wants himself a bold fiery girl with a good head on her shoulders. Jesus, who was that Chinese gal you had in Vietnam?"

Jesus visibly gnashed his teeth. "She was not a Chinese girl in Vietnam, she was a Vietnamese girl in Vietnam."

"Yeah whatever, they're all the same right? Now listen, what was her job again? You can whisper it if you like." Neegan drawled mockingly.

"She was a bar girl."

"Yeah, that's right, she was a whore."

"No, she wasn't a whore. She was a bar girl and you had better stop that because you knew nothing 'bout La'nh. For a start, if anyone dared call her a whore-". Jesus bit his lip, like he was self-censoring something, and then his shoulders slumped. "Fuck it. Just fuck it." He shifted in his seat. "Hey Lori, when's the show gonna start?"

The stripper on the stage, a stony-eyed blond, threw Jesus a disregarding look and un-enthusiastically shrugged. "Gimme time folks, gimme time. I ain't even finished this here iced tea."

"Oh come on Lori! Put down that drink now girl and get those titties swinging, baby! You're keeping your fans waiting." Daryl barked. He grinned like an idiot then turned to look at Michonne like she was a sympathetic fan who had been kept waiting. Michonne smiled back politely.

Lori replied gruffly. "I ain't on for another seven minutes, and I ain't showing nothing any sooner than I need to. Anyway, where's Rick? He never misses a show." Lori's scouted the room. Michonne felt a sting of jealousy, wandering what Lori and Rick shared.

"Rick? He'll will be down from work soon, baby. But see here, why don't you get things a little warmed up for him on this here stage? Show us some of your ass." Daryl suggested.

"Hey, Lori, you met Michonne? She's come all the way from the city." Jesus interrupted.

"You come all the way from the city? For what?" Lori looked at her suspiciously.

"Mardi Gras, kind of got stuck here."

"And how come you're fraternizing with these here gentleman?" Lori screwed her lips up.

"Oh hey now, I don't think anyone can accuse us of being gentleman." Daryl interjected.

"Was hitchhiking, nearly got attacked by some trucker." Michonne responded, sensing Lori's hostility.

"Oh yeah? Which white knight gone saved you're behind?" Lori further enquired.

Daryl was the one to respond. "Rick picked her up, she stayed with him last night."

Lori looked at Michonne so hard that her blue eyes nearly turned green with envy. "Mighty good for you. Excuse me." She said as she slid off the stage and quickly stampeded towards what Michonne guessed as the women's washroom.

"Why'd you have to go and say something like that to her, Daryl? You know Lori has the hots for Rick? Man! I hope she'll still come out and dance tonight." Merle said anxiously.

Neegan smiled heartily. "Oh she will, and I bet if anything, she'll swing her titties extra hard tonight. Knock you out of the ring with 'em, Michonne."

Michonne looked at Neegan disdainfully. "Never thought a dancer's bosom could be compared to Muhammed Ali's left hook."

Some of the bikers chuckled, but Neegan didn't. "A stripper like Muhammed Ali? Shoot! I ain't no faggot, especially not for some Negro."

Michonne finally caved into her disgust for Neegan. "Excuse me, I need the bathroom."

Neegan smiled about as sleazily as they come and let his arms slide off. "Well, come back to papa, sugar my lap's already feeling cold."

Michonne smiled and nodded politely. She looked at the clock on the wall; time was running slower than molasses.

Michonne opened the door to the ladies bathroom, and no sooner had it swung behind her, was she face to face with Lori the Stripper.

She was pissed. "You sleeping with him?"

Michonne looked at Lori, dumbfounded. "You mean Rick? No. Anyway, I'm leaving this place tomorrow. "

Michonne tried to nudge past Lori, but she grabbed her upper arm.

 _Wow, maybe Muhammed Ali and Lori the stripper do have something in common._ Michonne thought.

"Well good, because I'm sure you're a nice gal and everything, but I know Rick. I know him more than any girl will ever know… Maybe even more than Rick himself knows himself."

Michonne shot back. "That's quite some insight you have there, bordering omniscient. Can you loosen your grip please?"

Lori scowled and Michonne could almost see a storm cloud gathering above her head. "There you are throwing some college words around, smug, real smug. But you know what honey, you're coloured. Sure you're pretty for what you are, sure you've got yourself some education, but no white man in his right mind will ever take you seriously, except to sleep with you. And I know Rick, he sure do like novelty, especially fucking it, as do all these bikers when they get bored."

That stung, but Michonne was not going to lose her cool. "Some chicks, though evidentially, not all, can tell the difference between getting laid and getting married. But thank you for tip."

Lori's frown deepened. "No such thing as a woman who just wants sex from a guy. Most women want to be taken something serious."

Michonne coolly shrugged. "I like to be liberated and free, just… You know, let my hair down."

"Or up! Let your hair up with that big ol' afro of yours!" Michonne sighed as Lori doubled over at her own joke.

"Yeah that's great, anyway, why you lecturing me about being taken seriously? I ain't the one who likes to boogie on down without clothes on."

Tension crackled in the air. Lori's fingers dug into Michonne a little deeper, but then she let go. "I been dancing naked long before Rick came on the scene. Enjoy it too, like the attention, and money. Men never used to pay much attention to me before I danced, my mamma always said I was too rough otherwise."  
Lori visually appraised Michonne's skimpy attire with new approval, "I know you screwed Rick, I can tell, but that's okay, so long as we all know where we stand. Rick screws a lot of girls, but he always comes back to me."

 _A regular carousel of love._ Michonne grimaced to herself at the thought and then slid towards one of the cubicles, feeling it would be safe to do so without setting off the volatile Lori.

Lori was still not done talking. "Hey we should dance together, the guys would go crazy and all cream themselves."

Michonne muttered sardonically. "Nice."

"Yeah it sure would be, I'll even split the tips, man, and the tips will really be something special if we dance together. Anyway see ya in there, baby, gotta get grooving." Lori uncouthly banged the door to a close.

Michonne groaned to herself as the door slammed shut. She looked down at her white platform shoes, wishing they were red slippers and she could click them together to get back to San Francisco.

Rick took some deep breaths, letting the anger drain out of him like steam. He knew that it was Neegan's idea to take Michonne. Neegan was steadily becoming the world's biggest asshole, he knew that electing him as club president would bring nothing good. He tried to remember that the group had elected him out of sympathy; the fact that he was in jail for five years and out of touch with the real world. Rick also tried to remember him as a reckless dare-devil, not the guy who got a rise from causing his own friends trouble.

Rick adjusted his jacket and squared his shoulders. He walked into the bar, greeting some bikers that were sitting at the front sharing a joint.

"How you doing, Rick? You know Lori's about to dance inside. Bet you'd like that huh?" Spencer asked, wrapping his arms round his girlfriend, Andrea who was dressed in a black beret and black shirt, looking like a beatnik poet.

She looked at her boyfriend and chastised. "You don't ever seem to listen to me when I talk about the subjugation of women as a form of phallocentric capitalist oppression, that's just what her dancing is, I wish you'd listen."

"Oh I hear you alright, ain't phalliocentric mean penis?"

Rick laughed.

Andrea shot Spencer a weary look, before turning her attention to Rick. "Uh huh. Rick, there's this Black chick in there, she's gorgeous, not that it matters to you 'cause I guess she ain't your type... Anyway Neegan's taken some weird liking to her, so she's probably off limits unless he plans to pass her around."

Rick grimaced visibly and Spencer looked at Rick with playful interest. "Andrea, the Negro chick is staying with Rick."

Andrea nodded in approval and gazed at Rick with newfound admiration. "Cool, I didn't realize you were open-minded like that, Rick. You always seemed, you know, I wouldn't say an out-and-out racist, like card carrying or anything but uh... Well, never mind. Don't take this personal, but kind of makes me like you more."

"Thanks..." Rick mumbled unconvinced.

Spencer elbowed Andrea playfully. "So if I bought home a coloured gal, you'd like me more?"

Andrea shot Spencer an evil look and shook her head with deliberate slowness.

Spencer chuckled. "Damn well, can't blame a guy for trying."

Rick muttered. "Great to see you guys too, I better go inside catch up with the brothers, make sure Michonne is alright." He walked passed the lovers.

Spencer's relationship with Andrea hit a good note. Despite the fact that the two of them barely had anything in common, they had an enviable spark between them. Rick once nearly had something like that before he went to Vietnam, but it hadn't lasted through the war. Michonne flashed into his head, he felt a sudden pang, the same kind you get when you're thirsty for something in particular. He however, wasn't going to dwell on it. It was all just thoughts and feelings and sometimes thoughts and feelings could be a man's worst enemy.

Michonne watched Neegan convince Daryl to do something stupid as Rick was strode towards them. Jesus, who was sitting next to Michonne, raised an eyebrow at her and she shot one back.

"Hey Daryl... Drink this-" Neegan pushed out his glass with beer, tipped the ash tray into it, and then got some old gum stuck to the surface of the table and threw that in too. " I will buy you all the rounds you want for tonight."

Daryl greedily licked his lips, he looked round at the brothers for support, a few of them grimaced, but one of them growled enthusiastically.

Daryl like a puppy dog wagged his head stupidly then grabbing the glass, tipped the disgusting concoction down his throat. Within a few seconds, he coughed it all over the table and then ran to the bathroom. Howls of laughter could be heard from every corner of the bar. Michonne pursed her lips together; she really didn't understand how they could find what they were seeing fun.

Rick wove between the bikers, greeting old friends casually.

Daryl returned, his face a dark shade of green. He brushed past Rick.

Neegan smiled smugly. "Now Daryl, my boy, that was just a dumbass thing to do. You still want beer? All night? I bet my bottom dollar that's a no."

Daryl shook his head meekly, "Naw. I think I'm gonna rest a minute. That hurt my stomach, think the gum's still lodged down my throat. I can't get it out." To demonstrate he shoved his finger down his throat, allowing everyone to see his rotting teeth and diseased gums.

Jesus sighed. "Daryl, my brother, 'bout time you saw the dentist."

"Don't believe in dentists and all that bull. Any money I'm paying going straight into the chopper."

"Hey, guys, how you all keeping?" Rick said, surprising the group.

Michonne turned towards Rick's voice. Just looking at him made her heart beat faster and her skin heat up. He looked at her too, his eyes crinkled in concern, but his face relaxed into an assured smile, "Good to see you, Michonne, hope these guys been treating you fine. You been treating her fine right boys, Neegan?"

Neegan shrugged. "Why you singling me out?"

"'Cause, I got your note, Neegan and listen, come here." Rick beckoned Neegan outside the circle, so they were a little secluded. Rick could see Michonne giving them a funny look. "Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, Neegan. And the answer is 'no', you're not touching her, I will break your arms off. Both of 'em. You hear me?"

"I hear you alright, I hear how you been pussy whipped by a Negro chick into threatening your leader. Now as you're the treasurer, and the guys like and respect you, I am going to let it slide. Just this time though, just this time."

Rick could just about feel his fists itching at the sight of Neegan when he heard some of the kinds roar in approval. He turned round.

Suddenly "OD'd on Life Itself" by Blue Oyster Cult, one of Lori's favourite bands, started blaring out. Rick turned round and Lori was on stage, swinging about the pole, her fierce blue eyes fixed on him like a hawk.

Andrea and Spencer came in, Spencer stood their coolly whilst Andrea began to dance like a wild thing.

"Woo! Woo! Got to hand it to Lori, she knows a good tune. Dance with me, Spencer."

"No, don't dig dancing." He gruffly responded.

"Come on! Dance with me! It's fun! Woo! Look at Lori, she looks so pretty, dancing there. Don't I look pretty when I dance?" Andrea grabbed Spencer's sleeves and forced him into a dance.

"Goddammit woman, this is humiliating."

"Hey I'll dance with you Andrea." Daryl got up, and started to swing his hips to an imaginary rhythm that didn't quite match the music as he approached Andrea.

"See Daryl will dance, won't you Daryl?" Andrea chuckled mischievously, dancing merrily between her reluctant boyfriend and Daryl.

Michonne turned round, but her eyes widened and Rick could see her muttering, "Oh my" as Daryl turned round and felt Andrea's tits whilst Spencer groped her bottom. Andrea smiled wider than a boat as the two men clumsily ground against her. Michonne averted her gaze quickly.

Rick, made his way over to Michonne, feeling a sense of relief that Michonne was next to Jesus. Lori and her pale creamy tits on the other hand, were swinging all over the place and beckoning Michonne to come on stage with her. Michonne shook her head in resistance. But this was no deterrence to Lori, who elicited some whoops from the crowd as she crawled towards Michonne, flicking her tongue out crudely. Michonne smiled shyly, averting her gaze with discomfort. Jesus leaned over and whispered something in Michonne's ear. Rick felt his jaw clench jealously. Jesus had never cut any bones about being the sort of open-minded fellow Andrea admired. Rick bet anything that he knew what Jesus was thinking. Given that Jesus's gaze had dropped to Michonne's cleavage, Rick didn't have to be much of a telepath to read it.

Lori lithely slunk to the floor, and Rick could not help but chuckle sadistically as Michonne looked more worried than he had ever seen her, her large almond eyes downcast. She had every right to be worried, Lori was jiggling her breasts towards Michonne with great enthusiasm. Then, after a couple of blinks, Lori was doing a snaky lap dance for Michonne. A roar of laughter erupted amongst the mostly male audience as Michonne frowned at Lori's undulating derriere with an almost academic disdain.

Neegan cackled behind Rick. He watched Lori begin to dance for Michonne. "Daryl told her 'bout Lori. She pissed Lori off to high heaven when she heard Michonne was staying with you. She's trying to knock Michonne out of the ring with her titties. Knock her out solid. Bam!" Neegan did a swinging punching motion with his hands.

Rick shook his head. "Lori don't own me, just 'cause we screwed a few times don't mean we're together... Man, I just wish girls could just relax, like Michonne. Maybe San Francisco girls are just more with the times."

"Yeah those San Francisco girls sure know something about having a good time, like your girl there." Neegan chuckled darkly.

Michonne had got up and started to dance with Lori. Her hands were on Lori's shoulders, keeping her tits a safe distance apart, and she shimmied up and down smiling shyly. Her smile emphasized her high cheekbones and generous plump lips. Michonne winked playfully at Lori as she parted her thighs suggestively, gently rotating her hips. The crowd went wild.

Some guy shouted. "Strip! Strip! Strip!" and was soon joined by a chorus of others.

Rick felt himself grow worried. He looked at some of the men then back at Michonne who had probably stirred more attention than one woman could handle.

Some primal part of his brain snapped. He marched over to her despite, chorus of boos, and swung her over his shoulder. Michonne squealed in surprise as he walked across the bar.

"Oh come on Rick! The show's only just started." Abe protested in annoyance.

Rick fired back gruffly. "You want a show, Lori will give you a show, that's her job."

He heard a few boos, but soon their attentions were fixed back on Lori.

Rick said nothing as he took her to the bar, and sat her down on a bar stool. "You nearly got yourself into a situation there, you need to be careful."

Michonne gazed dangerously at Rick, "Careful? Uh no, I don't think so, but thank you all the same Mr. Morality Policeman."

Rick looked at the bar man, indicating that he wanted to be served. "Just looking out for a ditz from out of town. Clearly you don't appreciate that. Hey Moe, can we get two beers, Olympia please." Moe, the owner of the bar, handed Rick and Michonne two beers. "Thanks, man."

Michonne arched a brow. "Wow, thank you Rick you read my mind."

"Really?"

"No, I hate beer. It's like drinking piss."

"Well, someone's being petulant tonight, just thought I'd help you out. Since your senses are comatose somewhere under a rock, thought you'd appreciate it." Rick propped his elbow against the bar.

"What are you talking about, Rick?"

"Just about every guy there had a hard on. And there you were, like you know-"

Michonne screwed up her face derisively. "A tramp? A whore? A lamp post? What was I like? Fuck you, I should be the one mad at you, I got a class to teach Monday, essays to mark, lesson plans to write, but yet I'm still here. Could it be because someone did a little disappearing act this morning?"

Rick leaned back and smiled to himself, despite knowing how mad she was at him. "Hell, now there's a guess I would never have made right. A teacher you say? Now that is something."

Michonne pouted her lips. "It's not funny. I can look like a teacher you know-"

"I'd like to see that. You in a blouse and tight skirt... Heels... Stockings..."

Michonne raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm a little more demure."

Rick took a sip of his beer and then leaned towards her, whispering in her ear. "Of course you are. Sweet, demure, slutty Michonne. Innocently running around in those leopard print shorts that don't make your ass cheeks look like peaches waiting to be bitten."

Michonne felt Rick's hand on her shoulder. It scorched through the cloth. "Your hands are hot." Was all she was able to say.

"Are they? But is that important?"

She looked at him.

"Right now, I know I'm thinking of fucking you."

"With people watching?"

"Would you like that Michonne? Your thighs spread wide, wrapped around me with all these people watching?" Michonne stayed quiet. "I start by playing with your pussy or we could skip that whole part and I could fuck you the way you like; the way that makes you cum around my cock… Where you belong." Rick said with a voice filled with desire and longing. He dropped his gaze to the prominent outline of Michonne's nipples, his cock thickening at the invitation of her sweet curvy body.

The sweet spot of Michonne's pussy tingled from his words. She looked at him entranced. If he did want to take her on the bar, in public, she was not sure if she could say no to him.

But then Rick withdrew his hands from her jaw and looked surprised, like something had only just occurred to him, and then his eyes went cold and lips straightened. "Listen to me, getting all possessed with you. Sort of stupid for two people that only want to screw around."

His words and the avoidance of eye contact poured over her like ice water. Michonne exhaled impatiently and then swung round to face him. "Yeah that is stupid, because I don't need anything from you or any man, especially you. Excuse me."

Michonne slid off the bar stool and sauntered towards the front doors. Rick turned round and heard some whoops. He briefly watched as Lori grabbed a beer bottle and ran it between her tits. She looked at him and winked. Lori was always an option, but that thought left him feeling unexcited. Now Michonne on the other hand, interested him immensely.

Michonne tried not to cry. Her confusion over Rick swamped her like the warm breeze of the night.

 _That's what happens when you fuck a man and lose your senses, Michonne. You don't even know him._ She thought.  
A strange irrational sense of guilt descended, she exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to think of something other than Rick.

"There you are." She opened her eyes and saw Rick approaching. Her eyelids were rimmed wet with the promise of tears.

Rick closed in on her, his face drawn in concern. "Hey what's all this, you been crying?"

"No. Why would I cry over you? Your beard needs a comb." She looked at him with mustered contempt, her eyes glimmering. She felt strangely both relieved and annoyed when he smiled at her and chuckled, placing his hands on her shoulders. From the touch of him palm, anticipation radiated through her body.

"I don't know, maybe you're feeling all sad that you can't have me. Don't blame you, sugar."

Michonne looked at him, aghast at his nerve. He broke out a mischievous grin, his blue eyes twinkling.

She slapped his arm and tried to shift past, "You are an arrogant son of a-"

He used his body to pin her against the wall and his thigh to spread apart her legs. He then leaned forward. "You can have me, every hard inch of me. Understand? "

He slid his right hands round the dark nape of her neck making her whimper from the sensation of his skin against her own. Michonne's pussy throbbed with arousal.

Michonne closed her eyes and murmured. "Who says I want a single inch of you?"

"You don't need to say anything, Michonne." To reinforce his point, he slowly inched his left hand towards her pussy. She moaned and he chuckled drily.

Michonne felt Rick kiss the tip of her nose. "Open your eyes and look at me."

Michonne opened her eyes and looked at him fiercely, a hot red lust burning into him; she said nothing as her body melted against his, her pussy moistened as she was pinned against the wall. She moaned in frustration, her hunger for him burned her body with arousal.

Rick's heart thumped and dick hardened as she looked at him, assessing him through her dark almond eyes. His left hand slid up, towards the womanly curve of Michonne's hips, then slowly back down again to the hem of her shorts. He slid his hand under the material, feeling her silky smooth skin. His breathing grew heavier as he sought to control himself.

Rick saw her squirm a little, "If you don't keep still…"

Michonne swayed her hip towards him challengingly. "You'll do what? Make me cum? All the pity for me."

Rick chuckled sadistically. "Oh even worse, baby, I won't let you cum at all."

Michonne looked at him puzzled, but Rick swung her over her shoulder before she could even react. Like a caveman carrying his dinner, Rick walked to the back of the bar into a grassy opening with a log cabin at the back. Michonne clung on for dear life.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere with all the equipment I will ever need to make you cry out my name, or try to."

"Now you're just scaring me."

Rick patted her bottom reassuringly. "I doubt that. Here we are."

Rick flipped her off his shoulder and led her by the hand towards the small log cabin. She twirled a lock of her afro dubiously and frowned. "Nice, a love suite, for undiscerning horndogs."

"Hey, I don't bring every chick back here." Rick wrapped his hands round her waist and walked towards the log cabin.

"Okay, a love suite for partially discerning horndogs." Michonne sighed as Rick opened the creaky handle and let the door, with a grinding whine at its hinges, swing open. Rick reached in and flicked a switch. Light reluctantly splattered across the room, revealing plenty of gardening equipment, and a beam across the ceiling, with dried plants hanging upside down.

Michonne squinted at the plants, they looked oddly familiar, but she couldn't place a name on what they were. "Wow, potpourri anyone?"

"More 'pot' than 'pourri'." Rick gripped her hand and led her in. He kicked the door so that it shut with a bang; Michonne just about jumped out of her skin.

Rick looked at Michonne hungrily and sauntered towards her, Michonne playfully backed against the wall. "Ah, now I see, you didn't want those guys getting down with me because you want to get down."

"I won't lie to you Michonne, you make me a jealous man." Rick's hand caressed her neck as he kissed her jaw, her earlobes, and finally her lips. He loved the feel of her soft skin against his lips, they felt like black satin. He inhaled her scent, as if he were trying to capture her essence to remember her. Michonne wrapped her hands around his shoulders and pulled him in closer, sighing. Both melted into one another, craving the other's attention.

Rick squeezed Michonne's bottom firmly, getting a little harder when she moaned and pressed her hips against his own. He broke the kiss and drawled. "Grab that twine."

Michonne saw the ball of twine on the table behind her out of the corner of her gaze, her slender brown fingers danced over it before caressing into her grasp, "Twine? You're planning to garden me into being a good girl?"

Rick smiled, his teeth glinting. "Something like that."

Michonne boldly shrugged her shoulders back and blinked coquettishly. "Something like-"

Rick quickly moved in on her, his hot breath meeting her lips before his brutal kiss did. His tongue slipped between her lips as he tugged the ball of twine away from her hands. Rick nudged forward, forcing Michonne to move back against the table. He then lifted Michonne onto the table and pried her soft thighs apart. Grabbing her hair he carefully pulled her hair back so she was looking at him, and kissed her plump lips again. Rick's other hand found her breast and squeezed it and flicked his thumb across a distended nipple; she moaned responsively.

"Take of your clothes." He demanded.

Michonne silently slipped out of her outfit and neatly folded it. She could see Rick tense up. She dropped her gaze to the bulge in his trousers and allowed her attentions to linger at his prominent bulge.

"Good girl, look at your nipples, plump as berries, you wet too, Michonne?" As if to elicit a response, Rick squeezed a nipple, Michonne squirmed as she became aware of her swollen pussy and her moistened panties.

She averted her gaze by dropping it to the wooden floor. In response he squeezed both nipples extra hard. Pain and pleasure shot threw her sensitive buds. "Ow!"

Rick stepped a few steps back and then removed his jacket and t-shirt hastily then drawled, "I asked you a question."

"I'm feeling, uh, good?" She felt her face flush with heat as her heart thumped.

"That's not what I asked you." Rick's gaze lewdly surveyed her body, he stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"Bully." Michonne teased.

Rick chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment. God your body was just made to be played with." Rick bent over and bit a dark nipple, tugging it with his white teeth. Michonne cried out and tilted her eager hips towards him.

Rick released her wet nipple from his gentle bite and kissed Michonne again, brushing his parted lips against her own, before slipping his tongue in once again. He squeezed her sweetly sore nipple as Michonne whimpered. She ran her fingers through his hair and felt more wetness trickle between the slit of her cunt, priming her to be fucked.

She reluctantly broke the kiss.

"You can take me now." Michonne meekly suggested her voice a whisper and her body turning to jelly.

"Oh I don't think so. As I said, you were made to be played with. Wrists out, Michonne."

Michonne ran her feet along his inside leg, she could see a twitch of his jaw and his eyes glow even more intense.

"You can do whatever you like to my hands, I still got my feet remember?" Michonne taunted him by stretching out her legs and wriggling her toes.

"Good point. I guess I better tie those too."

"If you insist." Michonne hopped off the table and rapidly shed her panties before hopping back on. She spread her legs wide, revealing the gleaming contours of her sex.

Rick squatted, gently kissing the calf of her leg, and then tied her lithe ankles to each end of the table leg with the twine. He tried not to do it too tight. He rubbed the balls of her feet reassuringly.

"You okay with this, Michonne?"

Michonne bit her full lower lip as Rick's thick fingers began rubbing her slick pussy folds, finding the nub end of her clit, and gently flicked, back and forth. Michonne panted in frustration, the muscles in her thighs straining as she subconsciously tried to close them.  
"Michonne?" Rick drawled, his beard tickling her face as he drew closer. He swiftly removed his jacket and t-shirt, and chucked them across the room.

"Yes?" Michonne responded, throatily.

"Kiss me again."

Michonne wanted to wrap her arms around him, but as they were bound she leant forward instead, her lips pressing on his. Rick's kiss was hard and sensuous, his tongue drove into her mouth possessing her. She felt his hand caress the gentle arch of her spine, drawing feathery paths until he was squeezing the plump flesh of her ass.

She groaned despite the kiss.

His hands then moved towards her pussy. His fingers parted her lips and he gently squeezed her clit.

"Oh God."

"Uh huh..."

"Please untie me?"

He lent in and groaned, "Patience, babe, we just got started."

Michonne groaned in frustration.

Rick kept his eyes on her as he unzipped his trousers and clambered out of his boxers. He stood in front of her naked with his erection hard and wanting. Michonne admired his physique, catching a little of the violent tattoo on his back when he turned slightly. Her eyes then fixed at his impressive and ready erection.

"You really are so fine, Rick." She said, not so much as a praise but pleading him with her flattery for more attention, more of his touch.

"Fine enough for you to beg for it?" Rick drawled.

"You're asking me to beg? I'm not begging for you." Michonne wriggled, her moistness growing as her clit grew swollen.

Rick gritted his teeth trying to resist the urge to ram his cock into Michonne. But the fragrant musk of her pussy drew him in.

He could not resist her any longer. So instead he inched closer, until the tip of his cock touched the warm flesh of her loins. Then Rick ventured further in, leaving a silver trail of pre-cum on her thighs as his cock came into contact with her cunt.

Michonne moaned encouragingly as Rick rubbed his pale cock assuredly across her clit, teasing her. She couldn't move, she could only moan, wriggle, and feel helpless as she anticipated his next move.

"Beg for my cock." He said as he gently tugged one of her swollen nipples.


	5. Chapter 4

"No." Michonne whispered even as her body yearned for more. Rick roughly twisted her nipple, kissing her so deeply he left lightly gasping for breath.

"Beg for me." Rick released her sore nipple. Michonne's breath grew more ragged.

"Rick." Michonne moaned.

She felt his hand travel down her belly, until they were hovering above her pussy. Rough fingers parted her engorged inner lips and grazed the aching tip of her clit, eliciting a shudder. Then a large finger plunged into her pussy. Michonne rocked against his hand.

Rick couldn't believe the self-control he was exerting. Feeling her hot pussy clench around his fingers made his dick throb, but seeing her so tormented, heightened his excitement and encouraged him to not give in. However, Rick quickly replaced his fingers with his cock. He lazily rubbed his hardness liberally between her swollen dark velvet pussy lips. She parted her lips, looking up to him.

He mercilessly plunged into her little cunt, his skin slapping against her own. His face met hers, the tips of their noses momentarily touched before his lips pressed against her own, consuming her with a wet kiss.

He then slowed down, rotating his hips to tease and taunt her helpless body. She tried to catch her breath as his cock swivelled inside her wet tight pussy.

"Your pussy is…" Rick groaned, closing his eyes momentarily.

He placed each hand resolutely on her hips, driving further into her pink opening.

Michonne felt euphoria gather its roots into her sex, digging at her skin like his calloused fingers. She felt so close to an orgasm, the sensation became an increasingly overwhelming fireball, but as she was about to cum, he pulled out. Michonne nearly lost her mind.

"What the fuck?" She yelled.

"I told you." He chuckled, out of breath.

He dropped her head backwards and let out an annoyed groan. Rick approached her and held his hand to her neck. "You want to cum?"

"Yes."

He softly kissed her neck before pushing his dick into her like steel. His balls slapped against her and she quickly reached her tipping point. Rick could feel Michonne succumbing to the pounding rhythm of his cock. He watched how her body reacted when she came. Her back arched and her eyelids fluttered closed. He fought to stay in control of her natural response, but it was hopeless.

He kept his hand on her neck and continued to pound into her. Their bodies spoke to each other, as they both fucked, communicating their needs, feelings, with animalistic grunts.

She cried out, "Please don't stop."

Rick, placed his thumb into her mouth, she suckled it desperately. He felt his dick throb as Michonne's pussy clamped down on him hard, his balls tightened. He knew she was cumming. Lost in a haze of mutual sensation, he felt his cum spill into her warm pussy; releasing the pressure that had built up just as her body tensed up.

They stilled, breathing heavily.

He looked at her, she was beautiful. He slowly withdrew his cock, watching his own cum drip from her ravished cunt and pool onto table.

He smiled at her, strangely pleased with himself for being responsible for her ravished appearance. He stooped down to untie her.

Michonne looked at him silently as he craned over and quickly undid the knots. She kicked her feet a little once they were free, rotating them. Straightening his back, he gently took her bound hands and undid the knots.

Silently they dressed, neither meeting the other's gaze.

"I'm really tired, can we go home so I can get some rest for tomorrow?" She quietly said.

Rick ran his hands through his dark locks in exasperation. "You could at least fake the pillow talk, wouldn't hurt you some."

Michonne turned round on the heel of her platform shoes, "Chill out, baby. We've had good times together, two turned-on curious adults trying new stuff, exploring each other's bodies. It's been really really… Um."

Rick approached her just a few steps, his face dropping in disappointment. "Way to make me feel like a handbag."

Michonne's eyes softened. "That's not it. I am just trying to make things as easy. Don't you want the same thing?"

Rick looked at her hard. "Sure, anyway, like you said, why make things complicated? You're not even my type." He looked at her, hoping that saying it would make it true, but instead he felt the jarring discomfort of a person who had just lied to themselves.

Michonne looked at him in pure annoyance., "Well better send that memo to your dick." She then swung the door open to leave, but then felt it hit something. She heard a resounding "Oomph!"

"Jesus? What the hell?" Michonne saw the biker standing behind the door with trousers round his ankles and his semi-stiff dick hanging out. A fragrance of marijuana hung around him like a cloud.

"I was just going in there to roll up, and chill, heard a rumor Lan'h's got a kid by me. Made me happy and made me sad all at the same time, so I need something to chill me out. But uh, you know, saw you guys through the window and it's been a while for me too."

Rick pulled his t-shirt on and stepped outside, "You could have joined in, Michonne here is a good time gal that don't care who she's having a good time with, right Michonne?"

Michonne resolved herself not to get angry, she glared at Rick challengingly, and he glared back. Jesus looked at them both uneasily, feeling the firecracker tension between them. Jesus' response was to pull up his trousers and buckl up.

"Cool, well let me just uh, grab some supplies from, and hey, maybe we can go back to the bar. I don't usually smoke Michonne, but boy am I excited about Lan'h and the kid. Just wished I was there, or she was here, you know."

Jesus quickly dived into the cabin and yanked a bouquet of dried marijuana from the beam. He sauntered out with the dozy smile. They started walking towards the bar, a stone cold silence wedged between Rick and Michonne as they followed Jesus who was absentmindedly talking about some book he was reading and how it had totally blown his mind.

They heard the sound of people approaching the back lawn, the whole gang was approaching, but there was no brotherly excited chatter. Something wasn't right; Rick saw Neegan approach, flanked by a group of bikers.

"Hey Rick, we want to talk with you."

 _What the hell do they want with me?_ Rick thought curiously.

Rick felt a little nervous. So he stopped in his tracks, as did Michonne and Jesus. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. "What's the matter, brother?"

"You pretending you didn't get the message. So the real question is, what's the matter with you brother? Ain't up for some fishing with the fellas?" Neegan sneered at Rick, his gaze flicking at Michonne.

Michonne grew extremely uneasy, she had a feeling these men were not talking about their passion for angling.

"Neegan, it's not going to happen, okay? So why not go to the bar, and get with one of your regulars?"

Neegan squared his shoulders and tipped his chin back, "Nah, why tread a path that's been beat? Come on, nothing wrong with passing a little something around."

Michonne looked fearfully at Rick, her voice quivering. "Rick, they talking about me?"

Rick felt his anger rise. He couldn't tell the consequence of the decisions he would make in a minute, the consequences in an hour, or the consequences in a day.

 _Why defend a woman who thinks so low of you? She acts like sex don't matter. Hell, maybe she really is happy to fuck anyone. Your brothers will always be there for you, always have been, but this chick won't be._ He thought bitterly.

He put out the cigarette he was smoking. "You can go shove your dicks up your asses for all you're gonna get. Michonne's not your property and given the prospect of doing the dirty with you guys makes her look as happy as a vegan in an abattoir. Sorry, brothers."

Neegan smiled broadly. "Don't apologize. See, if you were gonna say no, then it's my job as chief to make sure, diplomacy or no-diplomacy, that we get what we came for."

Rick saw a glint out of the corner of his eye, Neegan had a knife. A moment passed, Rick was unprepared, but he wasn't going to back down.

He never thought that he would ever be turned on by one of his own. While he didn't have a weapon, he had been waiting for someone to jump him since the war. He just never really thought it would happen in his hometown.

With a guttural roar he dove in to Neegan's unarmed side and dug his elbow into his leader's stomach. Neegan cried out in surprise, losing his footing. Rick rooted his feet to the grass like two tree trunks. He punched the side of Neegan's head, hearing a cry as the men around cheered, spoiling for a fight.  
"Careful Rick, he's still up." Michonne cried.

Neegan stumbled and turned, the grip on his knife less sure, but still he lunged clumsily, and managed to nick Rick's forearm, drawing blood. Adrenaline burned through Rick so he didn't really feel it. He roughly grabbed Neegan's knife-wielding wrist and pulled Neegan down by the sleeve so that he lost his balance. Neegan dropped his knife but regained his composure.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" Some of the men shouted. Rick didn't know what side the brothers were taking, but it didn't matter. He was already invested.

Remembering what he had learnt from some dude who dabbled in martial arts, Rick rushed towards Neegan and punched him on both sides of his neck. Neegan passed out as his carotid blood supply was cut off. His faint was oddly delicate, like a pastiche of a woman who had worn a corset too tight.

Rick, looked at Neegan, his breath coming thick and fast as Neegan lay looking strangely angelic on the ground.

"Anyone else want to fight?"

The crowd went quiet, he then heard Daryl say. "Sorry man, we just thought we would give Neegan the benefit of the doubt as he's the chief."

"Chief or no chief, he got you guys acting like horny sheep?"

Hank cleared his throat. "Nah, it weren't just because we were horny, you know what Moe says, if we can get a Black chick, a Latin chick, a-"

"So you were prepared to kill me, force yourselves onto a girl from out of town, put your asses in prison, for some free beers at Moe's? Christ, come on Michonne, let's go before these guys think of another genius idea."

Rick grabbed Michonne's hand, trying to mask the fact that it was shaking.

He heard a lowly muttering from the crowd gathered behind.

Spencer and Andrea chased after them. "Hey, we're sorry, we didn't think we could do much but watch."

"Sorry don't cut it. Don't any of you guys have guts and minds of your own?"

Andrea looked angrily at Rick. "Well, look who's grown a conscious, at least some of us don't have blood on our hands. Come on, Spencer."

Spencer looked at Rick, then at Andrea, then at Rick. "Boy, oh boy. I'm sure she didn't mean that man." Spencer then shrugged pitifully, and chased after Andrea.

Rick stopped, and lowered his head. He closed his eyes, not wanting to open them, even if it looked curious. He didn't care, he just wanted pure darkness.

"Blood? But you didn't hurt Neegan that way? "Michonne asked inquisitively.

"The war. That's what Andrea means." Jesus whispered. Rick opened his eyes.

 _Vietnam._ Michonne thought, her heart dropping, reassessing everything. She felt incredibility guilty. She had been so self-absorbed, about her own needs, protecting herself, she had never cared to ask what his story was.

Jesus put a hand on Rick's shoulder, "Ignore Andrea, when she says that, she also means me, Hank, Taylor, and a damn near half of us in the club. Spencer is weak not to reign in his woman."

Rick looked at Jesus and then at Michonne. At that moment, he felt a million miles away from them even though they were within meters of each other.

"I think you'd better stay with Jesus tonight, Michonne. Now's not a great time." Rick said as he touched the bleeding gash on his forearm

Michonne shook her head and gazed intently at the hurt man, in more ways than one, that stood in front of her. "I would rather stay with you… I could sleep on the sofa."

Rick chuckled, but there was no humour in his voice. "Like I'm really going to make you stay on the sofa… I'm not going to be much fun to be around."

"That's okay."

Michonne reached out and touched Rick's shoulder.

He jumped a little.

Jesus looked uncomfortable, "Cool, well, adios, brother. It's been a real pleasure to meet you Michonne, a real pleasure." He tipped his head at her and walked towards the other men.

"You too. Bye, Jesus."

Michonne bent down to Rick's level. He didn't look at her, but she didn't care. She would stay there with him all night if she had to, he had just saved her life.

After a few more minutes, Rick got up. He held his hand out for her and she gently took it. They walked towards his bike in silence, but hand in hand. Michonne was getting nervous; not because she was getting on his bike again, but because she knew she was falling for him – a biker who supposedly only wanted to fuck Black chicks and not be with them.

They were cloaked under the swaddle of night. Michonne silently thanked the crickets for distracting her from their impending conversation. Michonne hugged her body close to his as she thought of what she would say to him.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them up again, they were at his house. She got off the bike and walked into the living room. She looked to him, but he was focused on his arm.

She tried to break the ice. "Rick, I'm sorry, I've really messed things up for you."

Rick snorted. "Not really, see, I really thought those guys were my friends. We're supposed to kill _for_ each other, not actually kill each other. They're my brothers, or I thought they were."

Michonne sat on the sofa. "Well, men go a little crazy when they form groups, get a little power, seen it happen before where I live."

Rick shook his head. "Naw, I don't believe that- it's nice to have friends who have your back. It didn't used to be like this, it got worse once Neegan became leader. He brought in some bad blood. Moe who owns the bar we been to used to be our leader and he played it just right, but he bought the bar and didn't really have the time to do so much organizing. Neegan don't really do nothing apart from getting us together in the bar and getting us into some trouble with other clubs."

Rick looked at Michonne. He tried to remain stoic as he wasn't the fluffy emotional type, but what he felt wasn't fluffy, it was almost painful- just thinking about Michonne leaving him made him feel a sinking sense of loss.

Rick stroked his beard pensively. "You know, I wasn't expecting to meet a girl like you. You're something else."

Michonne didn't want him to elaborate on his ambiguous comment as it didn't sound particularly flattering. She sighed in annoyance.

Rick caught her expression, feeling hurt she had rebuffed his compliment. He shrugged silently and began shaving around his side burns to get some definition. From the corner of his mirror he saw Michonne walk away from his view, and into the bedroom, her curvy, sexy silhouette passing by like a whisper.

 _I should follow her._ He said as he watched her body move about his bedroom.

Rick should have followed her to explain, but he didn't know how. Instead he entered the bedroom and picked up a pair of his pyjamas. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she kissed his back, where his tattoo resided.

"Sorry, doll, I'm not really in the mood."

"Neither am I."

He paused.

"What does it mean?"

He tensed, not really wanting to explain to her.

"Talk to me… Please?"

At any other time he would have loved to hear her beg, but tonight was not the night.

He sighed.

"Lay down with me instead then?"

He nodded his head and she gently dragged him to the bed. Michonne pulled up the covers wrapped them in them. She fell asleep almost immediately, but he didn't sleep properly. He kept dreaming someone was watching over him, a sinister cold presence. Rick opened his eyes in fear and confusion, but there was no one there, but her. He flung an arm around her waist, spooning her curvy bottom. She smiled contently, momentarily roused from sleep.

She was pretending to sleep when she heard him say, "I wish I could keep you here longer, if I had planned it better, I'd even kidnap you."

That should have worried Michonne and have her running for the hills, but more worrying was that in it's especially skewered way, it was the sweetest thing Michonne had ever heard.

She felt a mixture of happiness to have Rick close, and sadness, knowing in less than eight hours, they would be making their separate ways through life.

The next morning they made idle small talk over breakfast. He still mostly avoided her gaze because he didn't want her to see him getting sad. As he drove her to the coach station, he kept his Ray-Bans on, he could finally feel his eyes stinging.

A few old ladies and a group of teenagers were staring curiously at the black disco chick and the white biker. They looked odd, but for some reason, they fit.

"Thanks, Rick." Michonne said suddenly aware of the audience. She heard a clucking of disapproval from one of the old women.

It made Michonne uncomfortable, so she stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around herself.

Rick looked at the cluckee, the old lady and with his bearded chin jutting out chided loudly, "Don't tell me you got all those damned wrinkles and learned not a jot about good manners, Grandma."

"Well I never!" She said as her face pruned up in displeasure.

Michonne tried not to laugh. Rick stepped closer towards Michonne and she stepped back again. "You can keep stepping backwards Michonne, but it's only going to turn this into a game."

He took long strides towards her. From the corner of his eye he saw, beyond the haze dancing off the road, the coach.

 _All you have is now, and then she's gone._ He thought.

Rick stepped forward once more. Their foreheads were nearly touching. He gently placed one hand on her neck and kissed her, hoping that his kiss was enough to express how he felt about her. His tongue pried between her soft lips and caressed her own tongue. He let his hands drop to the top of Michonne's bottom.

The coach stopped, opened. They had but minutes left.

Michonne felt yearning all of a sudden and she couldn't help but say it. "I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't miss you. Maybe in another life things could have got more interesting."

She kissed him again, a tear streaming down her face. He pulled back and wiped it.

She smiled at him and stepped back, she needed to get back on the bus or she would lose her job. She got on the bus, looking back to him before walking in.

"Bye, Michonne."

"Bye, Rick."

As Michonne got on the bus, disapproving looks following her all the way to her seat, she ignored him as she remembered what she had forgotten. Neither of them knew how to contact the other.

"Damn."

"Fuck."


	6. Chapter 5

In the original story, it ends here, but I've decided to add more to it since I like it so much. In essence, from here on out, everything is mine minus the characters. It'll probably one chapter longer, but it's been fun and weird.

* * *

The ride back to San Francisco was filled with silent tears. Not only did she already miss Rick, she had no way of contacting him.

 _Don't think about him. It was only a fuck, he doesn't really care._ She attempted to convince herself of the latter, but she knew better.

Rick watched the bus disappear into the desert. He didn't want to leave, but he was starting to attract a crowd and that was never good for someone who looked like him, white or not.

The old women who were previously giving him disapproving looks were now wondering what he was doing with a Black girl dressed as such. Rick thought that they assumed he was pimping her out; that didn't surprise him.

He sighed loudly and got back on his bike. Maybe he was right, in another life, they could have had something interesting. He revved up his Harley and made his way back to his cabin, his life would never be the same.

TWO MONTHS LATER

 _Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn't._ Michonne looked at the address of Moe's bar frowning. If she thought it was a good idea to write to Rick, she would have done so one month back when she first had the idea or writing to Moe's bar.

She wanted to write many things: 'thank you', 'you were a great fuck' and 'are you okay?' but most importantly, she wanted to write to him because she missed him. Not a single day went by that she didn't think of him. Rick had been right, every time she closed her eyes she could hear the demanding growl of his voice and feel a memory of his fingertips on her thighs. Thinking of him made her heart beat faster. But the memory was fading, and that was making her sad.

When she first got home from Arizona, her grandmother had been suspicious.

"A girl goes missing for two days, won't tell anyone what she's been doing. What happened to you child? Meet the devil in the desert?" Michonne had just bitten her tongue, until the buzz of curiosity died down.

She fingered the torn piece of paper. If she wrote to him and he did not respond, she wondered how she would feel. Foolish perhaps; he had clearly seen her as the easy fuck. What if she wrote to him and he didn't even receive it, perhaps he had been cast out of Moe's bar since the fight. She would still feel foolish.

But if she wrote to him and he did respond, the ramifications were potentially worse than feeling foolish. An interstate-relationship was unrealistic, especially one based on a glorified series on one night stands. And an interracial relationship, especially with a southern boy whose leather clad exterior was bound to give her grandma the heart murmurs was a no-no. So that wasn't going to happen too.

 _Maybe we could keep it a sex thing, nothing wrong with that in these times. Interstate motels, quick flings, and then we go our separate ways._

But then Michonne thought of her teaching career. Not only was she the first real career girl in her family, she had also been the first one to go to college, with her mother, grandmother, and aunties helping her financially and otherwise. She had a good reputation in her community which she wanted to keep, not just for herself, but for her family. No, she was going to do the responsible thing, the expected thing, and whatever that was, it involved not trying to get with Rick.

She put that idea to sleep and wrote another letter to the Smithsonian, organizing a school trip for her students, and put it amongst the other letters she had written.

ONE WEEK LATER

"Hey Rick, you got a letter. See, now everybody thinks you live here." Moe said as he stroked his greying beard.

Rick took the letter and threw a few too many dollars on the bar as tip. He felt guilty for ruining Moe's business. The old man had taken Rick's side and had seen his customers trickle out as the formerly tight nit motorcycle club divided itself. Moe had put up with the antics of Neegan's gang, until one of the bikers on Neegan's tried burned a cross at the front of his bar, apparently on Neegan's orders.

He tore open the letter with care as it looked like something official.

"Dear Sirs,

I would like to arrange a four day history trip to Washington D.C. for thirty three of my students and was wondering if it would be possible-"

Rick grinned deviously. Michonne wasn't much for arranging school trips, but road trips however…

Michonne walked the last of her junior high school 'homework club' students, Rhonda, back home.

"Thank you Ms. Hall." A short chubby student said.

"No problem, Rhonda. Have a good weekend."

"Will do, Miss."

It was five o'clock and a Friday. Michonne started to walk back to the home she had bought her first year of teaching. During her absence, her mother and grandmother had made themselves at home, but once they found that she was no longer going to run off, they retreated to their own homes, her siblings included.

The neighbourhood was jiving, and some of the young guys were already clustering, getting ready to hit the bars and discos.

"Ooh baby, baby, you are dy-no-mite!" One guy said excitedly as she passed by, pulling up the sheep skin lined collar of his coat and tapping his sharp shoes.

Michonne smiled politely at the over-exuberant guy. "Hold your tongue now, respect a lady."

"Girl, and let me show you just how much I respect you."

"Ssh, don't say that, that's my sister's new history teacher." Another said. He was wearing a tight t-shirt, exposing his muscles.

"Really? Sorry Miss!" The man guy looked worried all of a sudden, like her jurisdiction to hand out detentions extended to the streets.

Michonne smiled, "That's okay, have a good evening gentlemen."

"Good evening, Miss!"

Michonne smiled as she walked home, the sun still out and bright though the days were growing darker.

The streets actually grew a bit quiet as she got closer to her brownstone. She smiled to herself, she was a successful woman and she satisfied with her life, though it did get a little boring.

Really boring actually. Rick was the last exciting thing she did.

 _And boy was he a fun thing to do._ Michonne smiled, but grimaced again. He had been an out-of-town fling. That was it. Sometimes she had dreams about them together, in a world where she and him could co-exist peacefully, but the more she conjured these thoughts, the more she recognized them for what they were, delusions.

She heard an engine purr behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She kept walking, but the purr followed her, like a creepy Cheshire cat.

 _Couldn't be. He doesn't know-_

"Ms. Hall, I need you to explain something to me." _A southern drawl_. Michonne stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating quickly.

"How did you-" Michonne said, turning round.

Rick nudged up his Ray-Bans and slid them over his head and on top of his hair. "You wrote to me, apparently against your own will, which is quite some achievement. But that isn't the issue here, explain to me how a bold girl like you was too chicken to contact me even when she figured out how?"

Michonne could not help but be affected by him, he was wearing a black t-shirt, his muscled arms showing. His back was straight and defiant and his already handsome face had lost most of his signature beard, revealing a beautiful sensuous mouth.

She smiled.

He stopped his bike by the sidewalk, swung off it.

They stared at each other for a while. "Come here."

She ran into his arms like a child. He opened his arms, receptive to her hug.

She cried in his arms. He gently rubbed her back. "If you missed me that bad you should have written to me." He playfully patted her bottom.

Michonne untangled herself from his arms in a mild panic "Don't Rick, people might see."

Rick looked at her in exasperation. "I kinda guessed that's what it's all about. You're afraid of what folks might think of you cavorting with a Gringo?"

Michonne wiped her tears. "I live at home, but my mom still comes by like it's her house. I don't lik having boys in the bedroom so I hope you didn't come down here just to chase tail."

Rick raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I'm here for work. Got my chopper shop two blocks away from here with Jesus. The tail chasing is just incidental."

Her eyes widened. "You're now living here?" He nodded. "With Jesus?" He nodded again. "What if you had bought the shop and in turned out I didn't even live here?" Michonne looked at him incredulously, though her heart was secretly bursting in joy.

He shrugged with deliberate casualness. "Didn't really think that far ahead, just wanted the change of scene. Figured I might eventually bump into you sometime too." Rick sounded hopeful, this worried Michonne. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her, a group of kids were pointing at her.

"Well that's really nice, but, I don't think anything will work between us Rick." Michonne was trying to be sensible and responsible, ignoring her own feelings.

Rick looked a bit disappointed, but resolute. "That's cool, because the last thing I'm looking for is a relationship."

"So why are you here?" She assessed, curious.

"I was just passing through on my way to my new business. Thought, why not stop over and have a little fun with Michonne." He said as his eyes looked up and down her curvy body.

Michonne shuddered at the attention. "And what if I said no?"

Rick took a step closer. "Would you say no?"

He captured her hand; he just needed to touch her.

Her stubbornness melted as she felt his thumb caress her palm. "Okay, but only for a little while and we can't tell anyone."

Rick smiled. He knew as much as she did that this wasn't going to last a little while. "So this is your place?" He asked, tilting his head towards the house.

"Yup!" She smiled proudly.

"It's nice." He said sincerely.

"You wanna come inside?"

"Sure."


	7. Chapter 6

I wrote Negan with two e's (like Neegan) and I apologize for that. Also, it's 12am where I am and I'm so tired.

* * *

"This is my home." She showed it off like a model did on TV. "It's kind of small, but I live alone so it's no big deal." He watched as she removed her shoes. He did the same.

They took a few more steps before she stopped them again. "This is the living room." He looked around the cozy room and admired the pictures she had on the shelves. "That's my mom and my grandma and me." He chuckled at a gap tooth Michonne.

"This is nice, way different than my old place." He said, once again.

"Thank you."

She took his hand and lead him towards the kitchen. "This is my clean kitchen." She emphasized the word 'clean' remembering how dirty his was and how she almost threw up when she opened the fridge.

He laughed again. "Alright, alright."

She laughed aloud. This was the happiest she had been in the last two months.

"So where's your bedroom?" He asked, his voice dangerously low.

She pretended she didn't hear him. She knew that the moment she showed him her bedroom, it would be over and she didn't want him to leave just yet.

She took his hand again and lead him to the dining room. "This is where I host my dinner parties and grade my papers."

"Mhm." He said absentmindedly. He approached her, wrapping his hands around her hips, ignoring her talk about her china and her wallpaper and whatever else she wanted to talk about. "Hey." He said.

"Are you listening to me?"

"I missed you." This was not the Rick she remembered. She looked up at him and caressed his face. She remembered the Rick that hated talking about his feelings because he wasn't no bitch, but she needed to know things before he left. Did he want to be with her for the long run or was he merely interested in sex?

Michonne buried her face in the crook of his neck. She didn't say anything for a long time.

The odd pair stood there motionless for what seemed like hours before Michonne spoke again. "Did you miss me or did you miss the sex?"

Rick groaned. Michonne pulled away. "You're something else, woman."

"It's an honest question... I need to know." She almost whispered

He struggled with his words. "I missed the sex, yeah, but I can get that from a lot of girls." She backed away. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't..." Her eyes widened, he groaned. A small smile tugged at her lips.

"Is that why you're here? Because you missed me?"

"No, I came to tell you that you need to send your letter to the rightful owner: the Smithsonian." Her eyes widened for a different reason, she had forgotten all about that. It was Rick's turn to laugh. He watched as she scrambled out of the room in a panic. He sat down on one of her mahogany dining room chairs and waited for her to finish whatever it was she needed to do. He looked around the room and for the first time noticed that every single piece of furniture matched her personality perfectly. The maroon wallpaper really did accentuate the light brown furniture.

Rick heard the door open and close and then open and close again. ""Sorry about that, I had to write a new one and make sure that it went to the 'right person.'"

Rick stood. "I also came here to tell you that I'm not going anywhere." She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "You can bitch and complain, but I'm not leaving your side."

"People will look."

"Is that something you're not used to?" He said sarcastically, knowing that not many professional Black women had good paying jobs like she.

"What if you find someone else? Someone white?" Her eyes were getting misty; the idea that he would find someone prettier or lighter than her was something that she thought about all the time.

He stood up and walked towards him. "There is no one else." He leaned down and softly kissed her. The kiss was so soft, she almost didn't feel his lips touching hers. When he pulled away, she was already staring at him. "Only you."

"Do you want to see my bedroom?" She smiled.

Rick shut the door behind him. He wasn't paying attention to much except for the woman standing in front of him.

"Take off you clothes," He demanded, breathing in her scent, "I'm gonna fuck the shit out if you."

"You promise?"

He smirked. "Always."

Michonne smiled as her removed her clothes painfully slow. She wanted Rick to be aggressive with her so she did all that she could to piss him off.

"Are you gonna strip for me or are you trying to slow things down?" He asked, growing impatient. "It's too late for that, we've already screwed around."

She smiled and continued to take her time.

"Babe, I don't got all day."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

He raised an eyebrow and leaned on the wall. "Nothing."

"I thought you were gonna 'fuck the shit outta me'."

"I am, but I've never seen you strip either." He leaned against the wall, watching her sway her hips to her own melody.

Michonne giggled and started to slowly remove her clothes, giving Rick a show.

Rick smiled at her. He couldn't believe that in the span of two days, she had managed to make herself an important person in his life.

"Show's over." Her said after she took of her bra.

She pouted. "You don't like my stripping?"

"Fuck."

"That's not an answer." She chastised, sauntering towards him.

"Are you gonna teach me a lesson?"

"Only if you don't fuck me right." She winked.

He threw his leather jacket in the corner of the room and took off his shirt. He then picked her up and threw her on the bed. "Lesson number one: don't underestimate me."

"Yes, sir." She answered in a fake serious voice.

"Good." He eyed her up and down, her breasts standing at attention. "Take your pants off."

"Take your pants off."

"You wanna suck my cock?" He raised his eyebrow at her.

"I've been wanting your cock in me for the past two months." She blushed.

"Lesson number two," He said, "Don't shy away from me; you want something, tell me." He kissed her again, more aggressively this time. She moaned into his mouth when he pinched her left nipple.

"I want you."

He smiled and pulled down his pants. Michonne laid down on her back at the edge of the bed and allowed Rick to place his balls in her mouth. She gently licked his balls, missing the feel of them. He moaned.

She shifted, after a few moments, so that she could properly suck his dick. Rick was on the verge of grabbing the side of her face and fucking it when he remembered that he had all night with her. He watched as she hungrily sucked and kissed his member. His breathing grew shallower every time she took his entire cock in his mouth.

"Oh God." He said.

She stopped sucking to ask him if she was doing a good job. He responded by throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

She continued to bob her head up and down his shaft until she felt his breathing hitch. "I'm gonna cum." He couldn't help it, he grabbed the side of her face and held it where he needed it to be. He fucked her face a few times before spilling his seed inside her mouth. To his amazement, she swallowed it all.

"Goddamn it, woman!" He said, breathing heavily.

"Did you like that?"

He smirked.

She stood on her knees and he wrapped his arms around her. "I sure did... Turn around."

She did as she was told and stuck her ass up to his shaft.

Rick got hard instantly. He removed his boxers and pants and coated his cock with her juices. Michonne shuddered at the feel of his member. She was nervous, but excited. He entered her in one swift movement. She moaned and he cursed. He grabbed hold of her hips and started pumping in and out of her slowly at first, to get re-acquainted with her pussy. "Fuck!" He yelled.

"Oh God, Rick."

"Yeah, baby?"

"Oh God."

He laughed and picked up the pace. Watching her ass bounce on his dick was enough to make him cum again. He attempted to control himself, but couldn't. He hadn't done this in a while. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groaned again and again. He grabbed hold of one of Michonne's tits and fucked her even harder. She gasped when he started hitting her G-spot with his cock.

He felt her change in demeanor and changed his pace. He elongated each thrust, fucking her hard and slow like he had all the time in the world - to a certain effect, he did. He hoisted her up so that they were both on in a vertical position. He bid her shoulder blade and she cried out. "You miss this cock?" He whispered in her ear. Michonne didn't respond. "You miss this cock, baby?" He asked her again, moving his hand from her breast to her clit.

Michonne hunched forward, startled by his move, but Rick quickly picked her back up. "I'm not done with you yet." Her body started to twitch and Rick knew she was close. "Cum for me." He continued his pace and rubbed her clit with his free hand. Her breathing was getting shorter and she body was getting tenser. He felt her pussy tighten around his dick which made his balls tighten as well.

She cried out when she came and he held her in place, still playing with her clit. She tried to close her legs, but he wasn't having any of it. He forced her to cum once more - which caused her to collapse - before he came inside of her. He removed his hand and licked his fingers before lying down next to her, breathing heavy.

They lay tangled in her bed. She ran his hand on his scar tissue, the bullet hole and the scar. He flinched, but it wasn't as severe as the last time. He knew what she was about to ask him, it was now inevitable.

"Where's this from?"

"Vietnam."

She sat up, hand on his chest.

"How long were you there for?" She asked as she wrapped his arms around her, forcing her to lie back down.

"Two years." She stayed quiet. "I got shot by a kid and the bullet went right through me. The doctors said I got lucky because they wouldn't have been able to operate on me otherwise."

She stopped breathing. He rubbed her back. "Don't do that, don't feel sorry for me."

"I don't." He laughed. "I'm sad."

"Don't be sad either, I'm here now, aren't I?"

"All those people." Her thoughts drifted off.

He continued to rub her back as she examined the rest of his body. She never did get a good look of it. He was lean, but muscular. His shoulders were covered in freckles and his arms had faded tattoos on them. "Are these also from Vietnam?" She asked as she ran her hands over them.

"Yeah."

"Were you a marine?" There was a marine corps tattoo on his left bicep.

"Yeah."

"What about the one on your back?"

He was quiet.

"Rick?" She looked at him and realized that he was looking right into her eyes.

"One day I'll tell you about it, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled a small smile and he kissed her.

She nuzzled her face in his neck and he smacked her ass. "Stop that."

She giggled and stuck her tongue out at him. "You don't scare me!"

He laughed louder than he should have and kissed her again. She deepened the kiss. "I missed you a lot." He said when they pulled back for air.

"I know." She caressed his face.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

"You know... For a ruff-n-tuff biker, you don't seem so bad." She brushed some of his hair out of her face.

"Oh yeah?" He flipped them over so that he was on top of her. "You won't be saying that for long."


	8. Chapter 7

Michonne was still nuzzling Rick's neck despite his demands for her to stop. She used her right hand to caress his beard and to hold his face in place while she annoyed the tough biker.

"Are you done yet?" He asked, mildly annoyed, but amused nonetheless.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" She asked as she kissed his cheek. He sighed and she laughed a throaty laugh. "You love this and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah." He said as he sat himself up.

Michonne frowned at the sudden change of mood. She gently touched his back as he ran his hands through his hair. "Hey... Are you okay?" She asked.

He stayed quiet for a bit. The truth of the matter was, his nightmares were becoming worse. He didn't want to scare her by letting her know that Vietnam had fucked him up more than what she had seen, but he knew that she would soon be able to put the pieces together. "I better get goin' soon; I need to help out with the shop." He didn't look at her when he said it.

"It's almost eleven at night, can't it wait until morning?" She asked, practically begging him to stay. He sighed and she removed her hand from his back. Rick immediately felt cold. He turned around to see her covering herself up with the duvet.

"Don't do that, please." He said, finally turning to look at her. He knew that she was upset - it was like they were in tune with one another despite not having known each other or been around each other for that long. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, we can hang out." She said, trying to act unaffected.

"Micho-"

"It's fine, Rick, really it is." She dismissed him.

"No it's not." He started. "This ain't easy for me. I left Arizona and all the people I knew for you and..." He sighed again and she moved closer to him. She wanted him as much as he did her. Rick rested his head on Michonne's chest. "I have nightmares of Vietnam. They were gettin' better, but then they got worse."

Michonne remained quiet.

"They told us to shoot the enemy, but sometimes the enemy was a ten year old boy. Other times it was a mother trying to protect her home. The screams..." She caressed his curls as he gripped her tighter. "I still hear them and they scare me more than anythang."

She pulled the duvet over his body to give him a sense of comfort. "It's over now, Rick."

"No... I-"

"How can I help you feel better?" She whispered to him. In truth, she wanted to know more, but didn't want to rush him. He would tell her when he was ready.

"Stay with me."

"Okay." She whispered back. After a few moments of silence, she said, "You're not so scary after all."


	9. Update!

Hey kids,

I just logged into my account for the first time in a while and I just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be updating this story shortly.

Thank you for the support (and hate) these past few years. It has been an interesting and quite honestly bizarre ride. I've left Tumblr because I'm grown (talking about myself), and have tried to focus on schoolwork and finding a job that matches my degree.

I've also been reading my posts and LMAO yikes. Anyway, I'll be back soon!

Em


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